


Sinners Like Me

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Band, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Sam, Dean is a dick, Forced Marriage, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Musician Dean Winchester, Past Castiel/Meg Masters, Team Free Will Big Bang 2014, Top Castiel, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:18:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life on the road with the Winchester Bros. Band is nothing like what Castiel would have predicted. His husband finds the institution of marriage to be nothing more than an inconvenience, and his brother-in-law is <i>right there</i> messing with his mind and his feelings. He misses home, his ‘67 Chevy, and his freedom. But he committed to a year as Dean Winchester’s husband, and hell if he’s going to give up now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homeboy

**Author's Note:**

> To our fans,
> 
> The Winchester Bros. would like to invite you to check out our website [right here](http://winchesterbrosband.tumblr.com) and join our fan club! All fan club members will get a shout-out from the band when they sign up!
> 
> Also, sharing our story wouldn't be possible without the help of our wonderful [beta,](http://hufflecas.tumblr.com) and all artwork is thanks to our lovely [artist.](http://http://story-monger.tumblr.com) All musical inspiration and lyrical genius is credited to [this guy!](http://www.ericchurch.com)
> 
> Now, we hope you enjoy the show!
> 
> \- The Winchester Bros.

  


_You can't hold back, the hands of time; momma's goin' gray and so is daddy's mind. I wish you'd come on back, and make it alright.... before they're called home, boy.  
_

\---

**Lead Singer of the Band 'Winchester Bros' Arrested in Nashville** (NASHVILLE, TN.) - Dean Winchester, lead singer in the popular band 'Winchester Bros.', was arrested Tuesday night and charged with driving while intoxicated. Winchester, 35, was reportedly stopped ten minutes after leaving a local bar when an officer observed his vehicle swerving into oncoming traffic. Field sobriety tests were issued and an open container of alcohol was found in the car. Winchester was booked Tuesday night and released the next morning, a jail spokesman said. He will appear in court on August 4th.

\---

Dean stopped reading. It was bad enough that he had to sit and listen to his brother complaining about the entire ordeal—he didn't want to read the damn newspaper article too. He tossed it aside and focused back on the lunch sitting in front of him. This arrest was just another mistake to put on his record and hold against him.

He had roughly twenty minutes (or less, more than likely) before the phone calls started coming in—the ones that Sam wouldn't continue to screen. There would be one from his parents, one from the record label, and numerous calls from magazines asking for a quote. He didn't have the patience for any of it. It all just made him want another drink.

The phone rang. Dean let his gaze fall on the clock on the stove as he ignored the ringing. Five minutes, a new record. He heard Sam answering from the office and took one last bite of his sandwich. He was too hungover for all of this shit. There were footsteps and suddenly a phone was thrust out to him.

"Hello?"

If he had placed a bet on who would be on the other end of the line, he would have lost.

"Dean."

_Jo?_ Dean's eyes widened as he looked to his brother. Sam, the punk, only had an amused look on his face in answer, before he left Dean alone with the phone. "Hey Jo," he finally managed. If his little sister was calling, then he really had fucked up. A call from Ellen he both had expected and prepared for. But Jo?

"Oh, so you do remember who I am," she replied, not even trying to hide her frustration. "I told Sam that you might have forgotten all about your family back here in Sioux Falls."

The accusation was clear. His life didn't leave much room for vacations and even when it did, South Dakota was never high on his list of destinations. Dean was at a temporary loss for words. There wasn't enough bourbon in the world to prepare him for the wrath of Joanna Beth. His agents could only dream of scaring him so badly.

A huff sounded on the other end of the line. Jo knew exactly what he was doing—avoiding difficult topics that he didn't enjoy, like visits home to Ellen and Bobby. "We've all seen your latest stunt in the paper. Couple of family friends have called asking if we think you're doing okay."

Dean groaned. He took a sip of his coke and thought about all of the gossip that must be flying around Sioux Falls. They were always so proud of him, until he fucked up again. "Tell them to mind their own shit."

A phone rang in the other room and he could hear Sam answering, fielding more phone calls that Dean would have to deal with soon. He didn't give his sister one moment to speak. "Listen, Jo, I fucked up, I know, but I have other shit to take care of right now and—"

"Dad's sick."

The words interrupted his chain of thoughts and brought them to a spinning halt. "What?" Bobby, the man who had selflessly adopted Dean and Sam when Dean was four and their parents were killed, had never so much as caught a cold in his life. He was a stubborn old man and would remain that way forever. "Bullshit. If this is some shit you're making up just because you want me home, Joanna Beth—"

She took a deep breath and when she spoke again, her words were shaky. "He's been acting really weird lately. Couldn’t remember anything, and the other day Mom found him walking around outside in his boxers. She took him into the doctor and… it’s dementia. The doctors say that it’s moving rapidly and going to change him quick over the next few weeks. They say it could only be months before he’s gone.”

_Fuck._ Dean was way too sober to contemplate the thought of the only man he'd ever known as a father, dying. He shook his head, still wanting to believe it was a joke but knowing not even little Miss Jo would stoop to those levels. He bit back his emotions, wanting to hang up and hunt down where Sam had stashed his whiskey.

"I wish you'd come home, Dean. You and Sam."

He could hear the emotion behind the words and knew she was crying. That's exactly what would be waiting for him back in South Dakota, and he wasn't ready for it. "I gotta go, Jo." The click of the phone ending the call was way too sudden and he knew it would hurt her, but he always was a selfish bastard.

\---

Not many things could intimidate Dean Winchester. His career had put him into more than a few uncomfortable situations and negotiations. On more than a few occasions, important people would try to use their status to buy his cooperation. It never worked. He could see the slimeballs for what they really were, and always refused to do their dirty work. He sang his own songs, picked every single member of his band personally, and only played at gigs he more or less approved of. If the powers that be didn’t appreciate that, then he didn’t need them around.

There was one exception to all of that. His current record label was run quite efficiently by a woman named Abaddon. He had signed on with _Blood Red Records_ a year prior and was shocked when he met the woman. After their initial meeting, Dean joked with Sam about the fact that she had obviously scared off her first name.

On that particular Wednesday evening, Dean had his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he walked next to Sam through the maze of offices leading to Abaddon’s favorite conference room. It had an odd _dungeon_ feel to it and he was more than a little nervous.

They sat waiting for five minutes before the tall redhead walked into the room, followed by a pack of obedient manservants that she liked to refer to as her ‘board of directors’. 

Dean managed to follow along for a remarkable ten minutes of the meeting before he got bored and began tapping his pen on the table. His brother nudged his leg, causing him to jump slightly and look around. All eyes in the room were on him. Abaddon had a single well groomed eyebrow raised as she waited patiently for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard. “I, uhh…” He tried not to fidget in his seat. _Blood Red_ was his third record label, and he was quickly running out of good options in Nashville. He had to keep them all happy. Especially the queen. “I’m sorry, I spaced there for a minute, what were we discussing?”

Sam spoke first, his eyes moving around the table before landing back on Dean. “We were mentioning ways that we could enhance your image. Pull you away from the way people see you now and make you more… family friendly.”

He sneered at the thought. “I’m not singing no boppy kid song!”

Across the table, Abaddon laughed. “Oh Dean, always so masculine.” Her eyes shifted to Sam. “I’ve just thought up the perfect solution. The press enjoys a love story… and Dean here, needs a feminine side. So he’ll get married.”

Dean and Sam sputtered simultaneously at the word. “ _Married?!_ ”

Abaddon looked unamused at the echo in the room. “You have thirty days, otherwise we will consider this most recent arrest to be a breach of contract and Blood Red Records will happily walk away.” She stood, causing her ‘minions’ to follow suit. Before she left the room she leaned across the table and focused her attention on Dean. “Remember, we don’t need you nearly as bad as you need us.”

With that final promise on the table, she walked out of the room. When Dean and Sam were finally alone again, Dean slapped his hand down on the table. “Fuck! She can’t do that, can she?”

Sam brushed a hand through his long hair, pushing it out of his face and letting out a deep breath. “It’s not really ethical, but she’s right… you broke the contract when you got arrested. If we want to stay at Blood Red, we’re going to have to play ball with the queen.”

“Fuck,” he exclaimed once more. Dean thought through a list of recent hook-ups and he tried to imagine being married to any of the skinny blondes and brunettes that he liked to fuck. The idea was terrifying. 

“The good news is,” Sam continued, “she didn’t say who you had to marry, or how long you have to be married for. So I’m guessing all you really need is a year or so with someone and this will have blown over. As long as you don’t get drunk and fuck up again—”

Dean crossed his arms on the table and let his head fall forward onto them. A year. A year married to some stranger… there was no way it was going to work out. He liked his space and his women and the control that he held over his sorry excuse for a life.

He was fucked.


	2. Drink In My Hand

_I got a forty hour week worth of trouble to drown. No need to complicate it, I’m a simple man, all you gotta do is put a drink in my hand._

\---

It took exactly eight months for a life to go from perfection to shit. Castiel knew this, because he had counted. One second he was married to the love of his life, working his dream job at a company he had built himself from the ground up, and the next he was walking into a bar with a finalized divorce waiting for him at home. If you could call a trailer parked on his brother’s property ‘home’.

Everything was gone: his wife, his house, and his job. He sat down on a barstool and ordered a shot of whiskey and a Coors. _Fuck,_ he thought, tossing the shot back as soon as it was in front of him, _why did she have to take my garage?_

He had trained all of his life to be a good mechanic. Saved every penny he’d ever made so that one day he could open up his own shop. And she just took it. It wasn’t like she intended to work there—he knew damn well that she was going to sell it to his number one competitor. Well, fuck him. And fuck her!

A body sat down on the stool next to his, but Castiel didn’t pay the person any attention as he drank his beer and ordered another shot.

Well, he didn’t pay any attention until he heard the voice. He had lived on the outskirts of Nashville long enough to know that sometimes country singers showed up in everyday life. He had seen a few at the grocery store, one at the Lowe’s out off of 65, and had even worked on a few cars for a few others. He had never seen one sitting on a barstool next to him. In his favorite dive bar. 

He swallowed his second shot and chanced a look beside him.

The man sitting there was indeed Dean Winchester, lead singer for the band Winchester Bros. Castiel couldn’t hide the smirk on his face as he took another sip of his beer. He liked the band, he had to admit, and the thought of being in such close proximity to one of his favorites was… exciting. But it was a bar in Nashville and he knew better than to make a scene.

A Jack and coke was placed on the bar in front of the singer and Castiel found his eyes drawn to the man’s hands. Castiel had dated a guitar player in high school. He knew damn well how fingers like that could drive a person wild. 

He snorted suddenly, realizing how pissed off Meg would be if she found out he slept with Dean _fucking_ Winchester. Winchester Bros. was always playing in her car.

“Something funny?” the voice next to him asked. 

_Shit._ Castiel turned, meeting the piercing green gaze that brought millions of fangirls to tears. Dean was looking at him, watching with his eyebrow raised in question. Castiel smiled. “My ex-wife loves you. I was just thinking about how pissed off she would be if she knew where I was right now.”

The other man smirked, turning back to take a drink. When his glass was placed carefully back down on the napkin below it, Dean looked over to him again. “Want a picture? I’m totally cool with you accidentally sending it to her and making her mad.”

Castiel thought about the cheap pay-as-you-go phone tucked in his pocket. The loss of his job and home had meant cutting back on expenses while money was tight. There was no way he was going to let on to one of the most popular singers in Nashville that he was dirt poor. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Silence settled down around them. Castiel focused on his beer while tapping his finger against the bar in time with the jukebox. The next time he got the attention of the bartender to order another round, Dean held up a hand and smiled. 

“Put that one on my tab,” he said. 

The bartender nodded before walking off, leaving Castiel sitting there in a confused daze. He turned to Dean and shook his head. “What? You don’t have to do that.”

He was beginning to understand why women threw their underwear on stage at Winchester Bros. concerts. When Dean Winchester smiled, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

Castiel felt it go straight to his cock.

“I want to. It’s not very often that a person turns down a photo opportunity when I offer, which tells me you’re an alright guy.”

Not even Meg felt that way about him. Not anymore. Castiel grinned and held out his hand. “Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you.”

“Dean Winchester… but you already knew that.” His touch lingered for a second too long, before he pulled away and picked up his drink once more. “It okay if I call you Cas?”

Castiel thought of all of the times he had corrected Meg when she’d shortened his name. The time he almost punched a kid in high school because _‘It’s Castiel, you dumb fuck.’_ He had always hated it—until it was Dean Winchester who said it.

“Cas is fine.”

\---

Castiel was _maybe_ a little drunk when it happened. One moment they were sitting at the bar sharing stories about their crazy siblings and stupid shit they had done as kids, and the next thing Castiel knew he was leaning forward and kissing Dean.

He expected to get hit. After all, Dean Winchester was a celebrity—and Castiel was fairly certain Dean was supposed to be straight. At least, that’s what the media portrayed. 

The receptive mouth that opened up to his, however, told Castiel that maybe the media had gotten it wrong. A hand landed on his thigh and he gasped into Dean’s mouth. His marriage to Meg had lasted eight years, with two years of dating before that. It had been a _long_ time since he’d experienced the joys of kissing another man. 

Dean pulled back, his hair sticking up in various directions where Castiel’s hands had happily tugged at the strands with each kiss. “Want you,” he said, his pupils blown with lust and alcohol on his breath. “Somewhere private.”

Castiel’s brain was hazy from the whiskey, but he looked around the bar to remember where he was and smirked. Standing up, he grabbed onto Dean’s collar and pulled him up as well. The place was busy, like it normally was, and Castiel hoped they slipped through the crowd without anyone paying them much attention. When they made it to the men’s room, he pulled Dean into the largest stall and shut the door behind them. 

As soon as the lock was in place, Castiel found his body being slammed against the bare wall. He groaned, not expecting the movement at all, but any pain from hitting the surface too hard was soon forgotten when Dean began kissing at his neck and pulling on his belt.

“Fuck,” he gasped, wishing he had thought to check if they were alone. Sex in the bathroom of a bar was something college kids did—not two grown men. Especially not when one of them was a celebrity.

Shaking the thoughts off, he focused on what was happening and tugged at Dean’s shirt. He had it untucked and shoved up by the time that his own pants were falling to the floor. His fingers were just about to unclasp Dean’s jeans when he felt a hand stroking over his cock through this boxers. He bit his bottom lip and let his head tip back against the wall as he jerked forward into Dean’s touch. It felt good… _really_ fucking good.

A deep voice whispered in his ear as the hand shoved his boxers down, “Wish I had lube. I’d fuck you until you were screamin’.”

_Holy shit._ Castiel bit back a moan because he wanted that so badly it hurt. He forced his fingers to move, getting Dean’s pants undone and shoving them down. When the other man’s cock sprang free, Castiel shivered. Of course he was the type to go commando. Why was that so fucking hot?

Dean stepped closer, adjusting his grip so that suddenly he was stroking both of their cocks simultaneously. The friction was overwhelming. Castiel gripped Dean’s shirt and kissed him once more. 

They shifted together, all groping hands and muffled groans until it was too much. Castiel bit down on Dean’s lips and came against his hand. 

Dean continued stroking, his free hand gripping Castiel’s hip. “Oh fuck, Cas,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he came as well. 

A few blissful moments passed before Dean dropped his hold and moved to grab some toilet paper to clean them up. He tossed it into the toilet and pulled his pants up, before staring at Castiel. The moment had lasted just long enough to start feeling awkward, when Dean smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “So, you want to get married?”

Castiel was way too drunk to contemplate such inquiries. “Huh?” he managed. 

“Married. You and me.”

Had he lost his mind? Castiel leaned down and grabbed his pants and underwear, fumbling to get them back on properly. “Did that. Got divorced and lost everything. Now I’m dirt poor and live in a trailer.”

“That’s fine,” Dean replied, continuing to smirk. He was obviously a man that always got what he wanted. “I’ll pay you. One year of marriage, ten grand a month.”

“I, uh—” The number fried his brain. Between that and the alcohol, he really shouldn’t have been surprised that his answer was, “yes.”

“Good.” Dean reached up and slapped a hand lightly against Castiel’s face. “All business, I swear. Mutually beneficial. I gotta get married, and you gotta get some money.” The twinkle in his eye was back as he leaned forward and whispered, “Plus, being around each other all day equals lots of time for fucking.”

And Castiel couldn’t argue with logic like that.


	3. Guys Like Me

_Your daddy worked at the bank, mine worked on cars. You went to college, I pulled graveyard. You must have had your pick, of all the trust fund types, but you came back to me and only God knows why._

\---

**Winchester Bros. Lead Singer Marries** (NASHVILLE, TN.) - It’s official ladies and gentleman, country music’s resident ‘bad boy’ is off the market. Dean Winchester, lead singer of the popular band Winchester Bros., tied the knot Friday evening in a small ceremony outside of Nashville. Winchester, 35, married Castiel Novak, a resident of Smyrna, TN. News of the wedding comes just days after Winchester was arrested for a DUI charge, his third brush with the law in five years. 

\---

The first thought that Castiel registered was _‘Oh fuck my head hurts,’_ and the second thought was _‘Where am I?’_ It was too bright to be his trailer. Also, it smelled good and the sheets were soft. Really soft. His eyes were still closed as he clutched the sheet in his hand and brushed his fingers gently along it.

Maybe it was heaven, in which case, he had no intention of opening his eyes and ruining the moment.

He rolled over onto his back, intending to keep rolling until he was facing away from the sunlight that was peeking in through the curtains. He didn’t make it all the way though, when he hit his back and stopped. _His ass hurt._ It was a familiar burn that he recognized immediately, even if it had been a while.

Blinking his eyes open, Castiel tried to focus his foggy mind and pinpoint where he was and _who he had let fuck him._ All he could remember was alcohol and green eyes. 

Turning to look at his left, he finally realized that he wasn’t the only one laying in the bed. Unfortunately, the only thing he could make out about the other man was his short brown hair and strong shoulders. His eyes darted past the sleeping man and caught sight of a discarded bottle of lube and empty condom wrapper on the bedside table. Yep, he had definitely been fucked. At least he had found enough drunken sense to make the stranger wear a condom.

Slowly, Castiel sat up and pushed the sheets aside. He hadn’t had a one-night-stand since college, but he knew that he needed to escape as quickly as possible. Ignoring the ringing in his head and the rush of nausea, he looked around the room to find his clothes. 

It was then that he noticed how expensive the furnishings were and how large the space was. He had gotten fucked by a rich guy? Squinting his eyes, he tried to remember once more who this man was. The night remained a big blank. It didn’t change anything, of course, he still needed to leave, but it made the thought of going back home to his crappy, run-down trailer just a little more depressing.

He spotted his pants and shirt laying on a brown leather chair by the window and said a silent prayer of thanks that they weren’t strewn elsewhere around the house. He did not want to go walking around a rich stranger’s house half-naked. He tiptoed to the chair and got dressed as quietly as possible, only managing to groan once or twice when he had to bend over and was reminded of how sore his ass was.

Once dressed, he moved towards the door that seemed to lead out of the bedroom. He was just about to turn the knob and leave, when he stopped. Could he really walk out without peeking just once to see who he had slept with?

Apparently not. 

He took just a couple of steps closer to the occupied side of the bed. Just enough so that he could see the guy’s face—

Holy shit. _Holy. Fucking. Shit._

It hit him like a freight train, and he suddenly remembered who those green eyes belonged to. 

Dean Winchester had fucked him in the ass.

Castiel bit his fist to keep from screaming because this was _not good_. The last thing he need was for Meg to find out and get pissed at him for this shit too! Shaking off the shock, he moved to the door with an even stronger desire to _get the hell out of there_.

He stepped into the hallway and shut the door quietly behind him, before looking left and right at the large expanse of house he now stood in. The fact was, he had no idea how to escape. All he could see was endless rooms and more space. He decided on going left, hoping it would lead to stairs. It didn’t. Turning around, he shook his head and went the other direction, thankfully finding a staircase and daylight shining through large two story windows. 

Hurrying down, he noticed the front door and foyer and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He could leave and put the whole experience behind him—

“Good morning.”

_Fuck._

That was not Dean Winchester’s voice. Which meant someone else would now know that Castiel had slept there. Not only that, but his chances of slipping out of the house without much fuss had just flown out the window. He turned, steeling himself for the confrontation that was sure to come.

The voice belonged to a tall man with dark brown hair that was long enough to brush along his shoulders. He was good looking, but Castiel’s morning had lead to a sudden swearing off of men. Right then. In that moment. “Uhh… hi.”

Hazel eyes swept over his body before the man forced a smile and motioned for Castiel to go down another hallway. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave just yet.” Castiel looked down the hall before turning to look at the door. The other man obviously sensed his thoughts of escape. “I made breakfast! Bacon and eggs and coffee.”

Now that it had been mentioned, Castiel could smell the telltale aromas in the air. Coffee and bacon… yeah, he could tolerate a little awkward conversation for that. He nodded his head and followed in the direction that had been pointed out.

“My name is Sam, by the way,” the tall man spoke. “Sam Winchester. I’m going to go ahead and assume you’ve met my brother, Dean.”

They stepped into a large kitchen with an attached breakfast nook, and Castiel sat obediently in the chair that Sam motioned to. “I’m, um… Castiel Novak.”

Sam placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, before moving back into the kitchen. “Oh, I know exactly who you are.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Sam came back, this time holding a steaming mug of coffee and a laptop computer. He set the coffee down, and opened the laptop before pushing it across the table to Castiel. It was open to one of those celebrity gossip websites.

The headline was not what he was expecting. _Winchester Bros. Lead Singer Marries_. His eyes moved from the headline, down to the small story. When he saw his own name mentioned, he felt a cold chill running down his spine. No way. _No way!_

His eyes shot back up to Sam who was sitting across from him. He pointed at the computer screen and exclaimed, “This isn’t true!”

“Unfortunately, it is.” Sam reached behind his chair to the nearby counter and picked up a photograph. He turned back, holding it out across the table for Castiel to take.

The glossy image showed Castiel, dressed in the same clothes he had just pulled on a few minutes earlier in Dean’s bedroom, standing beside Dean outside a wedding chapel. They were smiling like fools and holding up their left hands to show matching bands of gold. 

The picture dropped onto his plate of eggs and bacon as he looked down at his left hand. Sure enough, a wedding ring sat snugly on his finger, and it definitely wasn’t the cheap one Meg had given him. “Oh _fuck_.” 

“That picture was taken by Benny, Dean’s bodyguard. Apparently Dean made him drive you two directly from a bar over to a wedding chapel.” Sam reached over, taking back the image and the laptop. “According to Benny, Dean promised you a payment of ten thousand dollars a month if you stayed married for a year. What he didn’t tell you was that his record label requested he get married to better his image.”

Castiel frowned, swallowing down as much coffee as he could manage. He was not in the right state of mind to listen to or comprehend anything that Sam Winchester was telling him. Ten thousand dollars a month? Just to pretend he was married? He had been pretending he was married for the last three years with Meg—he was practically an expert at it. 

There was a loud commotion from the direction of the front door. Castiel glanced that way before looking back at Sam in curiosity. Sam buried his face in his hands. 

“Sam! Oh my God, Sam!” The front door slammed shut and a short blonde came running into the kitchen area, clutching an oversized tote bag. She didn’t even register Castiel’s presence as she rushed to Sam’s side. “Is it true? Oh my God, Sam, I’m so sorry! This is going to cause you such a headache. Why does he keep doing these things to you?”

The whiney tone of her voice made Castiel cringe. If anyone was causing anyone a headache, he was going to go out on a limb and suggest it was her.

“Becky, I’ve asked you—” 

The exasperated tone that Sam used finally gave her pause. “Sorry, Mr. Winchester.”

Pulling his hands from his face, Sam looked up and across the table. “Castiel, this is Becky Rosen, Dean’s personal assistant.”

Despite his mood and the way he was feeling, Castiel forced himself to play nice. He held out his hand to her, as she finally realized he was sitting there. “Nice to meet you, Becky. I’m Castiel—”

Her glare was instantaneous. “You? You’re the gold digger? Do you even realize how much trouble you’ve caused with this stunt?”

“I, uh—” His jaw dropped; he had no response for that.

“Miss Rosen we’ve discussed this,” Sam groaned. “Family affairs are not part of your job. There is a list on the desk with today’s tasks. Please see to it.”

She tried to speak again, but stopped short when Sam held his hand up and pointed out of the kitchen. When her footsteps had finally disappeared down a hallway, and Castiel was certain she wouldn’t be listening in, he spoke up again.

“I’m not gold digging. I didn’t seek Dean out in hopes of this relationship happening.” Using his fork, he pushed around leftover pieces of egg and bacon and wondered how his life had shifted so far off course in the span of twelve hours. “I’d much rather go back to the sorry excuse of a life I had yesterday.” Shit, he could only imagine Meg’s reaction when she saw the paper.

“Unfortunately, Castiel, that ship has sailed. Dean has caused the band too much bad press lately, and we’re going to have to take this ball and roll with it. So I have a lawyer coming over this evening to discuss the terms of a contract. You will receive the money promised to you last night, but will need to sign a waiver saying you won’t pursue any other funds once the marriage is ended. We will also need to send for your things and get you moved into the house here.”

Sam Winchester had a wonderful way of making everything seem so cut and dry. Castiel couldn’t digest it quite as easily as it was fed out. Move? Into Dean’s multi-million dollar mansion? Was he going to be required to sleep in Dean’s bed and become his man-slave? And here he thought it couldn’t get much worse than being married to Meg…

Since Castiel remained quiet, battling his thoughts, Sam continued. “You’re already dressed, so I’ll call for Benny to get the car ready. He’ll drive you to get whatever things you need before we send out a moving service.”

All of that, and Castiel could only think of one thing to ask. “Will I get my own bedroom?”

A range of emotions played across Sam’s face, none of which Castiel could actually pinpoint and read. Through his tough guy act, though, there seemed to be cracks that showed the underlying anger with his brother and embarrassment over even having to handle such a situation. Apparently the thought of Dean and Castiel sharing a bedroom was one step farther than he wanted to imagine. 

“I’ll have a room set up for your stuff,” Sam said, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Whether or not you sleep in it will be up to you and Dean.”


	4. Smoke a Little Smoke

_Kick back, give the blues a spin, break out the wine, forget again. Dig down deep, find my stash. Light it up, memory crash. Oh no, I don’t know, baby, it might take all night. Then I’ll maybe break out that old rock and roll. Drink a little drink, smoke a little smoke._

\---

**Dean Winchester Stole My Husband!** (LOS ANGELES, CA.) - After country music superstar Dean Winchester’s surprise wedding two days ago, the question on everyone’s mind has been: ‘Who is Castiel Novak?’

According to Meg Masters-Novak, what people should be asking is, why the sudden rush to get married? “Castiel and I were happily married for eight years, until about a year ago when he started acting different.” Masters-Novak, 33, claims that her husband began spending all of their savings on Winchester Bros. concert tickets and backstage passes. “He was obsessed. All he spoke about was Dean Winchester. And then the phone calls and text messages started.”

Meg believes that her husband began an illicit affair with Winchester, 35, which ultimately lead to the end of her marriage. “What other explanation is there? They got married the same day that our divorce was finalized!”

\---

Amazingly, Castiel didn’t speak to his husband until two whole days after their wedding. Dean was in what Benny called ‘writing mode’, which meant he had spent thirty hours hidden away at some studio in the city. Castiel couldn’t be bothered to care. He had his own room, his things unpacked and settled in, and a signed contract guaranteeing him a ten thousand dollar paycheck each month.

Also, he had found the garage. When Benny had taken him to get the few possessions he still owned at his brother’s trailer, Castiel had also convinced the bodyguard to let him drive his own car back to the Winchester estate. 

Baby looked damn good parked inside the nine hundred square foot garage. And thankfully, her presence gave him something to do with all of his newfound free time. On his third day there, he woke up and showered before grabbing a muffin off the kitchen counter and heading outside to the garage. After a couple bites of muffin, he grabbed the large craftsman toolbox and pushed it towards the third car bay where Baby sat. 

The 1967 Chevrolet Impala was already in pristine condition, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tinker with a few things. She was probably due for an oil change, maybe some new spark plugs. And he really had been meaning to check out that clicking noise that he could hear when she went over sixty miles per hour.

Before he knew it, Castiel was covered in grease and oil and half the day had passed. He was on a roller beneath the car (the garage really was well stocked) when the first bay door began to rise. Since the only car that was missing was the large hybrid SUV that Benny drove, Castiel kept working. The bodyguard was a nice enough guy, but Castiel felt awkward speaking to someone that was paid to drive him around.

“Holy shit.” 

He heard the words and frowned. That wasn’t Benny’s voice. Footsteps drew closer to where Baby was parked and Castiel took a deep breath before sliding out from beneath the car. After standing up, he pulled the rag from his pocket and wiped his hands off. His eyes found Dean, walking slowly around Baby and examining every inch. Was it still possible to be nervous around a celebrity when you were married to them?

Apparently so. 

His mouth went dry and his hands shook a little, causing him to grip the rag tighter. His husband looked damn good in those jeans.

“What year is she?” Dean asked, leaning carefully against Baby as he peered inside the driver’s side window.

Castiel grabbed the jack and lowered her back down to the ground. “‘67.” When all four wheels were touching concrete, he motioned to the door. “Keys are in it, if you want to hear her.”

Dean opened the door like he was a kid opening presents on Christmas morning. His whole face lit up as he slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition. 

As the car started, loud enough to shake the whole garage, Castiel turned his head in time to spot other occupants of the garage. Apparently Dean hadn’t been alone in the SUV. Benny was there, leaning against the large, black rig and watching Baby with a look of approval. Beside Benny stood a young woman with long blonde tresses and breasts larger than her small frame should be able to carry. She was wearing a tight skirt that barely made it past her ass and a shirt that clearly showed off her biggest… assets. 

Bile rose in his throat as he watched her watching Dean. Who was she? He had researched the key players in Dean’s life—the members of Winchester Bros., the manager-slash-nagging little brother, the overzealous personal assistant that was crushing on the manager. Perky Boobs didn’t fit in anywhere. 

Baby’s engine was shut off and Castiel finally looked back at his husband, watching the other man climb out. A part of him now wished he hadn’t let Dean touch her. It was a piece of Castiel that he had shared so readily without realizing how stupid he was being. To Dean, the marriage was nothing more than a business relationship. Castiel felt the same way, of course, but that didn’t mean he was going to break his vows _three days_ after he made them.

Dean held out the keys to him and Castiel clenched them in his fist. “I’d like to take a ride in her one day, if you don’t mind. My dad used to drive one just like this—” Dean’s voice cut off suddenly, and Castiel watched as he shook his head and moved towards the house. “Come on, Tara. I believe I promised you a good time.”

The blonde let out a happy giggle as she hurried to his side and walked with him into the house. Castiel watched it all unfold in shock, before catching Benny’s gaze.

The bodyguard gave him a sad, knowing look, before shaking his head and following Dean and the girl.

\---

Castiel had yet to figure out who cooked the meals at the Winchester estate. He had never seen Sam in the kitchen aside from that first morning, and never saw anyone else lingering around either. It was like the food just sort of… appeared.

That evening it was spaghetti, left out on the counter in a covered dish. Castiel lifted the lid and leaned down to smell the rich tomato sauce with a happy sigh. He fixed himself a plate and put it in the microwave, before he heard it…

“Oh _fuck_ yes!” 

The scream was so loud it reverberated off the walls and throughout the whole house. As if the sound of the bed slamming consistently against the wall wasn’t bad enough. He shook his head, pulled his food from the microwave and carried it, along with a beer, out onto the back patio. Thankfully, Dean hadn’t left his window open. 

Castiel was midway through his meal when the patio door opened. He turned to see Sam walking out, carrying his own plate of food and a glass of water. The younger man sat down across from Castiel and picked up his fork. Before he began eating, though, he motioned towards the second floor windows. “Sorry about that. I probably should have warned you.”

He contemplated the skinny blonde currently sharing his husband’s bed, and shook his head. “No big deal. Not like it’s a real marriage.”

“Dean is kind of an asshole,” Sam admitted. “He doesn’t like people trying to rule his life, so he does what he pleases with no regard to right or wrong.”

 _Spoiled celebrity_ , Castiel thought. He cleared his plate and picked up his beer. “I’m kind of unclear about what I should be doing around here during the day.”

“Actually, after this week we won’t be around much. The band is going on tour, and I’ve discussed it with the publicist… she thinks it would be best if you came along. For all intents and purposes, we need to make this marriage seem legit.” A tired hand brushed through Sam’s hair as he turned to look at the back yard. “We also need to do an interview and photo op with you and Dean. Jody, our publicist, has set us up Wednesday with People Magazine. They’ll come here to the house and do the interview and pictures, so it looks domestic.”

His eyes drifted down to the clothes he was wearing. Worn-out jeans and a Tennessee Titans shirt. Most of his wardrobe upstairs was similar. “I don’t really have any nice clothes—”

Sam finally looked over at him and smiled. “They’ll bring ideas of stuff they want you to wear, but we’ll send you out tomorrow with Benny to one of Dean’s favorite shops. Get whatever you need…” He paused, thinking for a moment and then continuing. “Actually, I’ll call the stylist before you go and give her a list. We’ll need a complete wardrobe for the tour.”

Of course. It wasn’t just a fake marriage, it would slowly turn into an entire fake life. Castiel finished his beer and picked at the label. He wished there was something stronger around, but Benny had mentioned Sam’s attempt to clear out all the hard liquor from the house. 

Apparently Sam was watching him closely, because the other man soon spoke up again. “Nothing is stopping you from doing what Dean is doing, as long as you’re discrete and avoid the media.”

 _Oh, good._ He had his brother-in-law’s permission to cheat on his marriage. That made life normal. 

Castiel stood, leaving his dishes and bottle on the table as he headed for the stairs that lead off of the deck. “I’m going to walk down to the pond. I’ll clean that up on my way back.” Once his feet touched the path that would take him down to the water that sat behind the house, Castiel dug into his pocket and pulled out the lighter and joint that he had tucked away earlier.

He had thought life with Meg was crazy, but then he went and stepped into the Twilight Zone as soon as his divorce was finalized.

He was fucked.


	5. His Kind of Money

_‘Cause I ain’t got his kind of money, and I probably never will. But I got a buck that says his twenties and his hundred dollar bills, ain’t gonna satisfy you forever. They can only buy so much._

\---

**Congratulations on the wedding! Dean, you shocked the whole world with this announcement. I gotta ask: how is married life?**

 **Dean Winchester:** Married life is fantastic. I’m not going to lie, I’ve spent most of my life being afraid of serious commitments, but with Cas, I knew that I was making the right decision. No regrets.

**Excellent! Castiel, we are all dying to know more about the man who stole Dean Winchester’s heart! How did you two meet?**

**Castiel Novak:** Funny story. I used to own an automotive shop in Smyrna, and a client that was a friend of Dean’s gave him my number. He needed some advice about a car he was thinking of purchasing. 

**DW:** I’m still a bit upset about not being able to buy that car. But when your favorite mechanic tells you it’s a lemon, you listen.

 **CN:** Always listen to your mechanic. We know what we’re talking about. Anyways, from there a friendship grew and developed into… something more.

**Were you married at the time? Reports have surfaced claiming that your relationship with Dean started as an extramarital affair.**

**CN:** Actually, no. At that point my ex-wife and I had already been separated for months and were well on our way through the divorce process. A part of me will always love Meg, but we grew into different people that weren’t happy together. I wish her all the best in life, though.

**Dean, I think what is the most shocking element for your fans, is your sudden interest in men. We are so used to you being the womanizer of country music. Do you consider yourself homosexual? Was this always a lifestyle that you’ve kept hidden?**

**CN:** Do they really call you the ‘womanizer of country music’?

 **DW:** Apparently. To answer the question, no, I would not consider myself homosexual. I’ve always embraced the idea of being bisexual and have never hidden that aspect of myself. I like to keep my private life private, and because of that, the relationships I’ve had with men and women alike are never well publicized. 

**So what will the future hold for the two of you? Should we expect the next generation of Winchester Bros. to be born anytime soon?**

**CN:** Only if Dean is the one getting pregnant!

 **DW:** Now everyone is going to assume I’m the bottom. That’s not fair!

 **CN:** I think being married to Dean Winchester is enough of a burden without adding in the element of mini-Deans. Right now, we are focused on our relationship and enjoying the honeymoon stage. If the desire for children hits us in the future, we will cross that bridge then.

 **DW:** Exactly. I definitely want life to be a little slower when we reach that point. I’ve seen other artists go on tour with their children, and I have a lot of respect for how they make it work, but it really does seem exhausting. The band is doing fantastic right now, and that is the main focus. Well, that and Cas.

**Will you be joining the band on tour, Castiel?**

**CN:** I will. I’m looking forward to it. I couldn’t imagine being away from Dean while he’s gone on tour, it’s just too long. But the whole experience is going to be amazing. Hopefully I get to meet some fans, and everyone is receptive of this whole crazy marriage.

 **DW:** Well, I love you, so I’m sure everyone else will as well.

\---

Being a celebrity was not all it was cracked up to be. Between the makeup and the hair products and the _three_ wardrobe changes, Castiel had reached his limit when the magazine crew finally left. He waited until the car was out of sight, before escaping into the kitchen to find a beer. He stopped short when he saw the person standing at the fridge.

 _Really?_ “Really?” The blonde with big boobs was bent over looking through the fridge contents. Castiel could have sworn that she had left, but apparently Dean was taking in strays. 

Sam walked up next to him and stopped as well when he saw her. Instead of shock, though, Sam just seemed aggravated. “Dean! I told you to keep the bimbos out of sight today! What if she had waltzed down here wearing nothing but a silk nightie when the reporters were here?”

Dean brushed past both of them and moved towards the blonde. “I would have said she was your girlfriend, Sammy. No less believable than all that other shit I spouted.”

There was something morally wrong about watching his husband gripping and dry humping a woman’s ass in the middle of the kitchen. Castiel pulled the keys to the Impala out of his pocket and turned. “Think I’ll go out for dinner tonight.”

He couldn’t quite figure out why it bothered him so much. A fake marriage equaled fake feelings, right? Besides that, he had only known Dean for a week. Feelings didn’t develop in a fucking _week_. 

Maybe it was jealousy that Dean was getting laid when Castiel wasn’t. 

Yeah, that had to be it.

\---

It was the moment he stepped onto the tour bus that Castiel realized things were about to be different. While the band was in a separate rig for the journey, Dean had his own bus that he shared with Sam. Unfortunately, the pullout sofa was Sam’s claim—which left Castiel standing in the small hallway holding the handle of his suitcase and watching Dean put his clothes away in the back bedroom.

Sam had already made it clear that they couldn’t let the band know the marriage was fake, which meant Castiel couldn’t sleep over on one of the bunks in the second bus. He was stuck with Dean, and the awkward feeling in his stomach that his husband was going to get pissed at him for even suggesting a shared sleeping arrangement.

He would not be able to handle sleeping on the floor of a bus for the duration of a thirty stop tour across the country.

“Here,” Dean said, motioning to the closed off area of the closet, the side he wasn’t messing with. “There’s room for your stuff, Cas.”

It dawned on Castiel that there was a mirror on the closet door, allowing Dean to see him standing there like a lost puppy. He drug his suitcase into the bedroom area and pulled it up onto the bed so that he could unload his brand new clothes. “Is this going to be awkward?” he felt the need to ask.

Dean slid the door shut on his side, allowing Castiel to access his half of the closet. He then moved to sit down on the bed and reached for the television remote. “Why would it be awkward?”

 _Because you like to fuck skinny blonde females_ , he thought to himself. “We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time coexisting, back at the house.”

“It’s just a bed, Cas.”

\---

_Just a bed._ Just a king size bed that should easily accommodate two grown men with extra space leftover.

Yet somehow, when Castiel finished brushing his teeth and slipped into that bed wearing a t-shirt and boxers, it felt like it was the smallest bed in history. Dean was already asleep, resting comfortably on his side facing Castiel.

Warm breath brushed along his neck every time his husband exhaled. And when he tried to move—attempted ever so gently to turn and face the other direction—his leg brushed against Dean’s. 

Apparently he had never been taught the art of staying on one’s own side of the bed. 

Castiel ignored the feeling of warm skin brushing along his own and continued to roll. When he was facing the wall and had his back to Dean, he took a deep calming breath. 

The sheets smelled like Dean Winchester. His _pillow_ smelled like cinnamon and aftershave and _Dean fucking Winchester_. It wasn’t fair. He shifted, trying to ignore it as he closed his eyes and fought to relax.

That’s when the man on the other side of the bed moved. It seemed that his husband was a cuddler, because before Castiel knew what was happening, a leg was curling over one of his and an arm was thrown across his waist as Dean pressed up against him.

Fuck. The erection he had ignored earlier that evening in the shower, was suddenly back in full force. He had a serious problem if one little cuddle was going to turn him into a horny teenager. He wiggled, hoping that the movement would annoy Dean and drive him back to his own side of the bed.

Instead, Dean moaned gently and shifted his hips forward—pressing a very obvious erection of his own against Castiel’s ass.

As if matters couldn’t get anymore awkward.

If Dean wasn’t laying all over him, Castiel would just get up and hurry to the bathroom to take care of his problem. With Dean there, though, he had no idea what to do. The consistent humping against his ass was not helping. FInally, he carefully maneuvered his hand beneath the sheet, trying his best not to touch Dean and wake him, as he found the elastic of his own boxers and shoved at it.

His husband was apparently not as ‘asleep’ as he pretended to be. He ground his hips forward again, and pushed Castiel’s hand out of the way. Castiel was about to make a sound of protest, when Dean’s hand wrapped around his cock. 

“Mmm,” he gasped, before biting his lips to keep from making anymore noise. Sam was _right_ outside the bedroom door.

Lips pressed a trail of kisses along the back of his neck as the hand began to slowly stroke his length. “Cas,” Dean finally whispered, “too tired for sex. If I jerk you off, will you blow me?”

Castiel tried to make his brain focus on his husband’s words. On the outside, it seemed like an okay enough proposition, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel an underlying sense of ‘I’m better than you.’ Was it his imagination? Why did Dean deserve a blowjob when he had fucked a bimbo on every surface imaginable over the past week? 

If anyone deserved a blowjob, it was Castiel. He could jerk himself off, if that was all he really wanted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten a lot of practice recently….

An idea struck him, causing him to smirk. Dean seemed to believe that the lack of response meant Castiel agreed. His hand kept stroking, the steady pace bringing Castiel closer and closer to the edge.

He closed his eyes, imagining some of his favorite fantasies as the orgasm began to build. It was exactly what he would be doing if he was taking care of his issue alone in the bathroom. When the fantasies became too much, he shifted his hips forward, driving his cock into Dean’s hand faster. 

He came with a gasp, enjoying the sudden rush of release. 

Dean wiped his hand off on Castiel’s boxers, before pulling them back up his body. When he was apparently satisfied that Castiel had gotten his side of the bargain, he rolled onto his back on the other side of the bed.

Eyes still squeezed shut, Castiel remained still, facing the wall and forcing his breathing to even out.

“Cas? Cas!”

A hand nudged at his shoulder, but he let the tension ease out of his body so that the movement was fluid. The ruse worked, because after a long moment, Dean let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you fell asleep, you motherfucker.”

Castiel drifted off to sleep peacefully.


	6. Faster Than My Angels Can Fly

_And the promises I made, and the hearts I break all in the name of fun. Yeah, I’d apologize, but I ain’t got no time for no tie-me-up slow-me-down love._

\---

It didn’t take long for Castiel to realize that his main job on tour was to stand around and look pretty. He tried to help with stage setups and hauling equipment around, but was usually shooed away by the stage manager, Chuck. He also attempted to hang out with the band members. They were always having wild board game and video game competitions that he would have like to get in on, but Dean was pissed at Castiel and had taken to living on the band’s bus, meaning it was off limits.

So, by the third stop on the tour, Castiel was about to go stir crazy. One afternoon, a few hours before the show, he got dressed and was ready and waiting for the moment when the busses parked outside of the coliseum. Sam, who refused to shun Castiel despite Dean’s recent attitude, watched him closely from the table.

He was in the middle of tying his shoes, when Sam spoke. “If you’re going to run away, can you warn me now so that I can prepare for the backlash?”

Castiel glanced up. “Why would I run away?” 

“Because Dean’s being an asshole, you’re bored out of your mind here, and you just want to go home.”

Everything he said was right, but unfortunately Castiel wouldn’t make ten thousand dollars a month back home. Being there, being Dean’s perfect and loyal husband, that was his job. And he would be damned if he didn’t see it through to the end. “I just wanted to go for a walk. Being stuck on the bus makes me… antsy.”

He finished with his shoes and stood, looking over at Sam, who was grinning. Castiel had a feeling that if anyone knew exactly what he was going through, it was Sam. As Dean’s brother, he didn’t have a contract that said he only had to stick around for a year. Sam was there for the long haul, forced to put up with the good days and the bad. And yeah, he was probably pretty well compensated for his trouble, but it definitely had to get old.

Which is why it didn’t surprise Castiel one bit when Sam spoke up again, asking if he could tag along. If anything, the surprise was his easily answered, “Yes.”

\---

They decided to walk through the maze of tailgators, since neither Sam nor Castiel were quite recognizable enough for the fans to freak out. And even if they did, Sam had insisted on having one of the security guards follow along behind them.

Castiel had been to a few football games around Tennessee, and had an idea of what to expect as far as the general tailgating atmosphere was concerned. But he was unprepared for the absolute devotion of country music fans. The show didn’t start for hours, but already the parking lot was full and people were having a blast. 

They made their way to a small group of tents housing vendors, radio stations, and a couple food trucks, and Castiel felt his stomach growling. “Oh my God, send a thank you card to the person that booked Baton Rouge on this tour.” He could smell the jambalaya already, and moved towards the ‘Authentic Louisiana Cooking’ truck without hesitation. 

Sam followed behind him, eyes weary as he read the menu. “I have a feeling they don’t serve salad.” 

When Castiel caught the look on Sam’s face, he laughed, moving a step closer in the line. “Have you ever had real jambalaya before?”

The other man shook his head. “I like to eat pretty healthy... ”

“So do I,” Castiel replied. “But in the bayou, you eat the good shit and you savor every minute.” He stepped up to the counter and ordered one of the ‘specials’ along with a sweet tea, before turning back to Sam. “You in or you out?”

“I already ate.”

Castiel rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wallet and paid for the food. When they slid a styrofoam container and his drink across the counter, he said his thanks and carried it over to the nearby picnic tables. Sam sat down across from him and Castiel watched their guard trying to look invisible as he leaned against a building. For all the muscle he was packing, he wasn’t doing a very good job of blending in.

“I can’t believe you would let a healthy diet deny you this.” He popped open the lid on his food and leaned down to enjoy the smell of cajun spices. When he took the first bite, his eyes slipped closed as he took in the experience. When he looked back up and across the table Sam was watching him closely. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at the look of envy and desire on his face. 

He dipped his spoon in to collect another small portion, making sure to grab a shrimp in the bite as well, before looking up at Sam. Hazel eyes were watching the spoon closely, and Castiel knew that as much as Sam might deny it he wanted what Castiel had.

“Here.” He held the spoon out across the table. “Try it. One bite.”

The man had a lot more self-control than Castiel did because, even with the food right there in front of his mouth, Sam still tried to refuse. And Castiel took full advantage—he waited until Sam had opened his mouth to speak before shoving the spoonful of food in.

His efforts produced an immediate ‘bitchface’ until Sam finally tasted the food in his mouth and relaxed. His eyes slipped shut, much the same way that Castiel’s had, and… was that a moan?

“Oh my God, Cas,” Sam managed, his mouth still full. Castiel had a feeling that it was the first time in his life that Sam had forgotten his manners.

“You’re welcome.” He focused back on his food and ate a few more bites, laughing to himself when Sam jumped up from the table and walked back over to the food truck, his wallet out.

\---

“Umm… Bob Seger.”

“Oh that’s easy. _‘Turn The Page’_. I’ve seen him in concert, I have all of his CDs, and when that saxophone plays those first few chords, it doesn’t matter where I’m at—I always feel a chill roll down my spine.” Castiel motioned to Sam with his beer bottle. They had finished their walk and made their way back to the bus, where they settled down with beers and college football on the TV. Neither one was really watching, though, and eventually Sam muted the announcers so that they could talk. “How about Journey?”

A mutual appreciation for the same kind of music had lead to a comparison of favorite songs. Sam picked at the label on his beer as he answered, “Honestly? Probably _‘Open Arms’_. I mean _‘Don’t Stop Believin’’_ is a classic, but the emotions behind _‘Open Arms’_ gets me every—”

The bus door opened and they both turned, watching as Dean walked in followed by two women. Their conversation died immediately as Dean motioned for the ladies to sit at the table while he went to the back. The opening act would be going on stage soon, meaning Dean had about forty-five minutes to get ready and get backstage. 

Castiel kept his eyes on his bottle, not wanting to look at the girls or the pity in Sam’s eyes. The one topic they had avoided while getting to know each other was Dean. But Sam was smart, and Castiel knew his feelings about Dean cheating were probably written all over his face.

Unfortunately, the flavors of the week did not get the memo about awkward silence. One of them looked up, noticed Castiel and immediately let out a high pitched squeal. “Oh my God, you’re Castiel Novak! You’re even hotter in person!”

He looked up in confusion. “Excuse me?”

The brunette giggled. “I have your People Magazine article taped on my wall! You and Dean make the _cutest_ couple. And I completely support your love. See!” She grasped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it away from her body so that he could better see the image on it. It was a picture of Dean’s face with the words ‘I love pie _and_ cake’ written underneath.

Castiel frowned, looking over to Sam for clarification. “I don’t understand that reference.”

“She’s referring to Dean’s well-known love for pie. Some of the fans have started a campaign showing support for Dean coming out as bisexual—they use pie and cake as a metaphor for his liking both women and men,” Sam explained, eyes trained on the television so that he didn’t have to look at the women. 

It was nice to know that Castiel wasn’t the only one that felt uncomfortable. He looked back at the girl, and couldn’t hold back his thoughts. “If you support my marriage, why are you here?”

The question gave her pause, but not enough. “Dean said he liked us and wanted some friends to hang out with before and after the show—”

“Are you going to fuck my husband?” He felt Sam’s eyes on him once more, staring. The question was probably one he shouldn’t ask, considering the girls were fans, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Only if they’re lucky,” Dean answered, walking out of the bedroom dressed for the show. He held out his hand to the brunette. “Am I right, ladies?” They giggled some more as they nodded. Dean motioned for them to exit the bus. “Come on, let’s get this party started. We have a crowd to please.”

Dean followed behind the women, avoiding looking at both Sam and Castiel as he left. Once the door had shut closed behind them, Castiel finished his beer and stood up. “Think I’ll retire early tonight. I have a book I’ve been meaning to finish.”

“Cas,” Sam called. Castiel stopped midway through the kitchen and turned back. Just like he had assumed, there was pity in Sam’s eyes. Sam didn’t apologize for his brother, though. Instead, he smiled sadly and said softly, “You deserve better.”


	7. The Hard Way

_Only fools don’t take the time of day, they stay too busy runnin’, to stop just once, and tell their dad, just how much they love him. That’s a lesson I wish I woulda learned, before the phone came and it was her. No momma never had to say a word - I knew it was too late._

\---

They were on the road for five weeks before they got word. Dean was napping in the back bedroom and Sam and Castiel were playing video games in the front when Sam’s phone rang. He pulled the device from his pocket, took one look at the screen, and his face fell.

Even hearing only one side of the conversation, Castiel knew that it wasn’t good. When the younger man finally hung up, he had tears in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Castiel questioned, turning away from the TV and focusing his attention on Sam. 

Sam looked around, obviously feeling lost, even in his own environment. “They just admitted our dad into the hospital. He’s taken a turn for the worse.” He looked toward the back of the bus, eyes focusing on the bedroom door. “He’s got dementia. They just found it a few weeks back. I was planning on taking a trip over to see them when we hit Minneapolis next month, but that might be too late. And… fuck, I can’t convince Dean to go at all. He hates dealing with stuff like this.”

Frowning, Castiel remembered how hard it was to lose his own parents. If he hadn’t been able to be by their sides in those final moments, he would still hate himself. Though Dean probably didn’t realize it, he would feel the same way.

Looking back to Sam, Castiel motioned towards the bus driver. “Why don’t you find out how far we are from a major airport, and see about booking a flight? I’m going to talk to Dean.” 

Once Sam looked like he knew the game plan, Castiel stood and moved through the bus to the back bedroom. He expected to find his husband asleep, but that wasn’t what greeted him at all. Instead, Dean was laying on the bed naked, stroking his cock while watching a porn movie on the television. 

His mouth went dry at the sight. There was something important he walked back there to talk about, but for the life of him, Castiel couldn’t remember what. Probably because all of the blood previously flowing to his brain had just turned to take a direct route south. 

It wasn’t just Dean masturbating that was hot, though. What really got to Castiel was that Dean was watching _two guys_ fuck. Despite their relationship, Dean’s constant affairs with women always seemed to rub Castiel the wrong way. 

“Hey,” Dean quipped, eyes on Castiel instead of the screen. “I think you owe me. No free shows.”

Though it would be easy to move onto the bed and blow Dean like he was suggesting, Castiel immediately had other thoughts. He reached behind himself to lock the door, and then quickly stripped out of his clothes. Once naked, he moved to the bedside table where he knew lube and condoms were stashed. 

Dean’s eyes followed every movement as a smirk played out on his face. “I like the way you think.” His hand reached out, grabbing the condom Castiel tossed onto the bed and tearing open the package. 

When Castiel noticed Dean was about to roll the condom onto his cock, he frowned. “Isn’t it my turn?”

His husband stopped, green eyes flashing with anger as he looked at Castiel. “I don’t play catcher, Cas. That’s your job.”

“Says who? You?” Castiel slammed the drawer shut and crawled onto the bed with the lube in hand. He leaned over Dean, not intimidated one bit by the ‘macho man’ attitude. “You’ve put that dick in ten different women since we’ve been married, what makes you think I want it inside of me?”

Condom already in place, Dean moved in a rush. He rolled, pinning Castiel beneath him on the bed and leaning down to bite gently on his neck. “How about you stop talking shit and just lay back and enjoy my cock?”

_Like a good bitch_ , Castiel thought. His husband was a dick. Why had he decided sex was a good idea?

By the time Dean had sufficiently opened him up and was pressing his well-lubricated cock inside, Castiel’s erection was non-existent. It felt nice, yes, but he couldn’t get past the lack of emotion on Dean’s face. He was almost perfectly mimicking the actors on the television. And when Dean finally came, he didn’t seem bothered at all by Castiel’s lack of orgasm. He just rolled over and discarded the condom before switching the movie off. 

Castiel laid on the bed, ass sore and dripping lube, cock resting flaccid against his thigh. The reason he had walked back to the bedroom in the first place suddenly hit him. Though it would definitely be an awkward post-sex conversation, it had to happen. 

After he cleaned up in the bathroom and pulled his clothes back on.

When he was wearing his jeans and a t-shirt again, he sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to Dean. “Sam got a phone call. Apparently they had to admit your father into the hospital.”

There was no response, so Castiel turned to face his husband. He was immediately confused by the lack of reaction. Dean just sat there, eyes trained on the TV like Castiel hadn’t said a word.

Finally, when he seemed to notice Castiel staring, Dean looked over and met his gaze. “And? What? He’s sick, that’s what happens.”

It was when those green eyes were focused on him that Castiel could see the scared boy beneath the tough exterior. “He’s not sick, Dean. He’s dying.” 

Sadness flashed in his eyes before Dean looked away once more. 

Castiel continued, “Sam is going to book a trip up there. He’s searching for flights out of the next city we’ll hit. You should go with him.”

“Yeah? And who’s going to do the show in two nights, you?” 

Castiel shook his head. “You can fly in a couple hours before the show. It would at least give you a chance to say goodbye.”

The anger was back, and he watched as Dean muted the television before sitting up and glaring at Castiel. “Listen, we don’t talk much, so I’ll forgive you this one time for being confused. But this thing we got going on, this shit ain’t real. You’re here as nothing more than a publicity stunt and a piece of ass. So get the fuck out of my face and stop trying to pretend you know me.”

He continued to stare at Dean for a long moment, then stood up. He moved to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag that he quickly filled with enough clothes to last him for a few days. 

Though Dean wasn’t watching, he still seemed to be tracking every movement Castiel made. “If you run away because your feelings got hurt, the contract is null and void. You won’t get a penny.”

“I’m not running anywhere.” He threw the strap of his duffel over his body and gave his husband a forced smile. “I’m going with Sam. I’ll tell your family that you send your regards but can’t make it because of the tour. And in a few months, when you’re feeling like shit because you didn’t tell your father goodbye before he died, I’ll remind you of this moment. It’ll be no one’s fault but your own.”


	8. Those I've Loved

_I wouldn’t be who I am today, if not for those I’ve loved along the way._

\---

The plane ride was silent. When Castiel told Sam he would be joining him, Sam didn’t complain. The younger man looked far too shaken up and sad to protest having company along for the trip. They didn’t talk about Dean, because it was pointless. Sam had known before Castiel even went to talk to him that Dean would never agree to the trip.

From the airport they took a rental car directly to the hospital. Castiel remained a step behind as they walked into the large building. He was there to offer support, but he had no intentions of getting in the way of the family.

Of course, that notion changed as soon as they arrived at the second floor waiting room. Sam was immediately enveloped in hugs from two separate women—one older and one younger—and when he stepped back he motioned to where Castiel stood.

“Guys, this is Castiel, Dean’s husband. Cas,” Sam motioned to the women, “this is my mom, Ellen, and my little sister, Jo.”

Castiel shuffled forward nervously and held out his hand in a polite greeting. Ellen ignored it, and stepped forward to hug him like she had Sam. 

Her voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke in his ear. “Thank you for coming, boy. It means a lot.” She stepped back, moving over to wrap her arms around Sam once more as she leaned against his side. 

Jo offered a polite handshake and weary gaze, nothing more. 

“Where is he?” Sam asked, looking down at Ellen. “I want to see him.”

Ellen patted his back and gave him a sad smile. “Of course. He was taking a nap earlier, but he might be awake again.” 

Sam moved to follow his mother out of the waiting room, but was stopped by Jo’s hand on his arm. “Sam,” she said softly. When he looked back, she nervously tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “He’s not the same. Be prepared for that.”

\---

It was alone in the silence of the waiting room, that Jo finally acknowledged Castiel’s presence there. She sat across from him, fingers tapping on the screen of an iPad, before she stopped suddenly and looked up at him.

“Did he even think about coming? Even for a second?”

_Dean._ He thought about their argument, and about his promise that he would make excuses for Dean’s absence. Unfortunately, sitting beneath the watchful gaze of a sister that had long since heard every excuse… Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to lie.

“No.”

\---

They remained at the hospital all day, surviving on lukewarm coffee and bland sandwiches. Once visiting hours ended, someone suggested a trip to a local diner and they all jumped at the thought of real food.

Which is how Castiel found himself squished in a booth beside Sam and listening to family stories that had them all laughing. He sipped at yet another cup of coffee and watched Sam’s eyes light up as he argued with Jo about the validity of one story in particular. 

“Joanna Beth, I swear to you it was a foot long garter snake and it was more afraid of you than you were of it!” Sam used his fork to point at his sister across the table and emphasize his point. “Dean and I were mean, but we would have never scared you with a poisonous snake.”

“It was curled around my favorite doll! You let it in my _room_ and when I tried to grab it, the thing bit me!”

“Well, then it obviously wasn’t _poisonous_ ,” Sam argued.

Castiel laughed at that, setting his coffee cup down and picking up another french fry from his plate. 

Across from him, Ellen was watching him closely. He should have anticipated an interrogation, but had been lulled into a false sense of security over the day. “So, Cas… how’s married life working out for you?”

He coughed, feeling the fry lodge in his throat. For some reason Ellen’s questions brought up images of Dean and his entourage of skanky women. Marriage? It shocked him, in that moment, to realize that he missed the constant arguments that came with being married to Meg. At least when _she’d_ slept around she hadn’t waved it in his face. 

“Great,” he forced out, taking another drink of coffee to dislodge the food in his throat.

Ellen saw straight through his bullshit, like any good mother. “You don’t have to lie, boy. Sam here told us about your, um… arrangement.”

He looked beside him and caught Sam nodding. “Yeah.” Letting his eyes drift back to Ellen, he gave a more honest reply. “It’s tolerable. I’m sure you’re all well aware of Dean’s… quirks. He’s not exactly the easiest person to be around.”

“What he means to say,” Sam interjected, “is that Dean has continued to fuck everything on two legs. Usually right in front of Cas’ face.”

Ellen nodded, like she knew all too well of Dean’s antics. “I only met Dean and Sam’s biological father a few times. Back before he died, Bobby and I were still just friends, so I would see John in passing here and there.” She gave Castiel a sad smile. “That boy is his daddy up one side and down the other. Liquor, music, and girls—that’s all he cares about.”

\---

Sam and Castiel stayed in a hotel just a few blocks from the hospital. Castiel watched over the course of five days as the emotions of the entire situation wore on Sam. Bobby got gradually worse and the doctors predicted that he would pass some time before the week ended. So they kept a constant vigil.

Castiel remained in the waiting room most of the time, always offering to grab coffee or food. Open arms ready to hold whoever walked back in from Bobby’s room, looking shaken and sad. 

On the sixth night, he rolled over sometime after one a.m. and heard the telltale signs of crying from the bed next to his. Sam had remained strong for his mother and sister, never shedding a tear in the hospital, but he had obviously reached his breaking point.

Throwing his feet over the side of the bed, Castiel sat up and looked across the room. Pale moonlight snuck in beneath the curtains, offering just enough illumination to see Sam’s large form curled up, facing the wall. 

He moved over onto the other bed without hesitation, letting his back lean against the headrest as he dropped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Come ‘ere.”

Sam stiffened, waiting a long moment before turning over and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist. Teardrops fell, soaking into Castiel’s shirt, but he didn’t care. His fingers brushed softly through Sam’s long hair, offering as much comfort as possible.

They sat like that for an hour before Sam shifted. His tears had long since dried but he apparently wasn’t able to fall asleep any more than Castiel was. Those hazel eyes met Castiel’s in the darkness, right as Sam’s lips found his.

The kiss was awkward and sudden, but it still sent a shiver through Castiel. It was the last thing he’d expected, but that didn’t explain the way his body readjusted, allowing their lips to find each other better without the weird angle and tilt of Sam’s head. He was soon laying on his back, Sam hovering over him as the kiss deepened. It felt amazing, he had to admit, even if it was very _very_ wrong. 

The outline of Sam’s cock pressed against his hip, hardening and rocking gently with each passing moment. Castiel gasped, hands still tangled in Sam’s hair and itching to move down and touch every inch of the other man. 

Castiel was about to do just that when a small light illuminated from the bedside table—followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of Sam’s cellphone ringing.


	9. My Heart's Got a Memory

_But if I had my way, I wouldn’t feel this pain. And maybe someday baby, I’d kick this thing. But I really don’t know when that might be, ‘cause my heart’s got a memory._

\---

**Robert Steven Singer**  
(1950 - 2014)

Robert ‘Bobby’ Steven Singer passed away September 16th, 2014 after suffering from complications due to dementia. He was laid to rest three days later at the Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Sioux Falls. Bobby is survived by his wife, Ellen Singer, daughter Joanna Singer, and two adopted sons, Dean and Sam Winchester.

\---

Sam and Castiel met back up with the band in Pittsburgh, a few hours before the next show was scheduled to take place. Ten days had passed since they’d left, leaving Sam with a stack of headaches to take care of… and Castiel with nothing to do, like usual.

Instead of hiding out on the bus, he mentioned to Sam that he was going to walk around inside the stadium and watch a bit of the show from the fans’ perspective. He was immediately assigned a babysitter, er… _bodyguard_. It took an hour of walking around with the stoic Gadreel next him before he gave up and made his way backstage to the band’s green room. His guard, thankfully, remained outside.

Since the band was already out on stage, the room was void of people except for Sam and the stage manager, Chuck. They were arguing logistics about the next two stops of the tour, stuff that Castiel neither understood, nor cared to listen to. He grabbed a plate of food, smiled briefly when he caught Sam’s attention, and headed back out to the tour bus. 

He knew from a schedule on his phone that after two more stops they would have a week off and fly back to Tennessee—something he was anxiously awaiting. Castiel missed Baby and home and his family. And having a room that wasn’t shared with his asshole husband.

When the concert ended, Castiel was already laying in bed. He had still yet to see Dean that day, aside from the few minutes he watched the man performing from the audience. 

The door opened and Castiel looked up in time to catch Dean walking in, sweaty from the performance. He seemed baffled by Castiel's reappearance, and remained frozen in the doorway. 

"You're back."

“I am.” He stared at Dean for only a moment longer before looking back at the television. Dean moved in front of the screen long enough to shut himself in the bathroom, and minutes later Castiel heard the shower running.

He had no idea what he had been expecting. But considering the only man Dean had ever known as a father had just died, a little more emotion had been fairly high on the list of expectations.

Castiel let his eyes drift from the television to the door leading out to the rest of the bus. He remembered kissing Sam on the hotel bed in South Dakota and shivered. It had been nice, the passion stemming from the desperate need for normalcy. Not for the first time, he wished Sam was the Winchester brother he was married to. 

Unfortunately, life didn’t work out that way. And Sam had been virtually unreadable since they arrived back with the tour—he had even gone so far as to put his suitcase on the band’s bus instead of Dean’s. 

The bathroom door opened, bringing Castiel’s attention back to his husband. Dean stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist and wet hair sticking up in a million different directions. He seemed different, almost… nervous? Castiel watched as Dean rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and fought to find the right words to speak.

“I, uh... ” Dean continued to stare at the floor. “Thanks for going for me. I know that—I know that it wasn’t easy, but getting away and cancelling shows would have been a massive headache.”

It was an excuse, and they both knew that. It had been obvious when the news came down about their father being sick that Dean was incapable of handling such a tragedy. Castiel hadn’t even known the man for three months yet, and even _he_ could see that Dean hated any and all true feelings.

He remembered Ellen’s words, talking about how Dean was just like his biological father: hiding behind fame, women, and a whiskey bottle.

“The service was beautiful. Sam made sure everything was perfect—I think that’s how he coped.” Castiel remembered watching his brother-in-law internalize his emotions and hold strong for everyone else in the family. Other than that one night in the hotel room, Castiel hadn’t seen Sam break once.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from Castiel, still wearing only the towel. Castiel watched the muscles of his husband’s back tense, and couldn’t help but slide forward on the bed. He settled behind Dean, one leg on each side of the other man’s body, and slowly began massaging away the pain. All of Dean’s bottled up feelings were laying on his shoulders like the weight of the world.

“Mmm,” he moaned, leaning back into Castiel’s touch. “Why didn’t you say something earlier about being a masseuse? I could have used this more than a few times over the last few weeks.” 

“You were usually busy with other things.” _Women, mostly_ , Castiel’s brain supplied. He let his lips brush gently over Dean’s skin. “I like these quiet moments. Almost makes the rest of this crazy life worth it.”

Dean turned his head to glance at him over his shoulder. “Yeah? You getting used to being a roadie, Cas?”

Was that what he was? A roadie? Castiel frowned, his ministrations on Dean’s skin slowing as he contemplated the idea. The women that walked in and out of Dean’s life seemed to be more fitting of the title ‘roadie’. Castiel was more like a business associate. The relationship he had with Dean was one critical to both of them succeeding financially in the near future. 

Which was a load of bullshit that he could almost make himself believe… if he was drunk, stoned, and not at all in his right mind. 

Ignoring Castiel’s silence, Dean turned slightly so that they were almost facing each other. “Listen, Cas, I know things have been a bit rocky, but I do enjoy your company.” He bit his bottom lip, obviously wanting to say more.

“And?”

Dean smiled, desire flashing in his green eyes. “I was hoping you’d be up to…” Dean’s hand found the edge of Castiel’s shorts and slid a few inches beneath. “Sexy times?”

It was laying on his back, twenty minutes later, with Dean’s dick in his ass, that something dawned on Castiel. Considering Dean had never given up control—hell, had never even _offered_ —he was obviously in the mindset that Castiel was just like all the women. A ‘pussy’, so to speak, for him to take out his frustrations on. The only difference being that Castiel was there all the time, whereas the women had lives that they went back to after Dean fucked them.

Castiel’s pleasure, like always, was an afterthought in Dean’s mind. Which was probably a good thing because the last few times he had jerked off it had been to visions of sex with Sam, not Dean. 

But that didn’t make it any less frustrating when Dean came with a shout and slumped forward against his back.


	10. Lovin' Me Anyway

_Yeah I could lie and say this time I’m gonna change, but we both know better.  
I’m like a ship out on the ocean, cussin’ the waves but loving the motion.  
Chasin’ a star that don’t always shine._

\---

A week at home was not nearly long enough. Out of the six days that they were back in Tennessee, Castiel got a whole twelve hours to spend with his family. The rest of the time was spent at charity events and shopping for new clothes for the second half of the tour.

Dean, of course, reverted back to his usual antics and spent the entire week with a brunette named Michelle in his bed. To escape from the noisy theatrics that was Dean fucking around, Castiel spent three nights sleeping in the back of the Impala. 

When they flew out to Seattle to meet up with the tour busses, Michelle accompanied them. Sitting in first class beside Sam and across the aisle from Dean and Michelle, Castiel could no longer bite his tongue.

“What happened to keeping up appearances of a happy marriage?” he asked, keeping his voice low so that only Sam could hear. 

Sam watched Dean and his ‘girlfriend’ for another moment before looking at Castiel with sorrow in his eyes. “I think he’s reached his limit.”

“Three months is the limit?”

Sam nodded. “It’ll get worse from here on out, unless we give him his space and just let him play. The thing with Dad didn’t help, either.” Grabbing his tablet from the bag by his feet, Sam swiped and tapped on the screen for a few moments, before tilting the device so that Castiel could see it.

_I’m sorry_ , he’d typed out along with a frowning emoticon. Castiel stared at the two words for a few long quiet moments, before looking up at Sam and smiling sadly.

“Me too,” he whispered.

\---

Over the next four weeks, things gradually escalated just as Sam had predicted. Michelle slept with everyone in the band and the opening act, which pissed Dean off to the point that he had security kick her to the curb somewhere between Boise and Salt Lake City. Dean then apparently expected it to be alright for Castiel to endure the brunt of Dean’s frustrations.

Castiel could handle being the bottom during sex, but he would _not_ tolerate being pushed around like a submissive dog. He slept on the band’s bus for the next two legs of the tour just so he wouldn’t feel the need to strangle Dean in his sleep.

Everyone was in a terrible mood that finally reached its breaking point in Las Vegas. Winchester Bros. was set to open the American Country Music Awards at Mandalay Bay, and was also nominated in five separate categories. Both of those things should have made the band happy beyond belief, but Dean Winchester found it prudent to ruin the event by acting like a child.

“I’m not walking the red carpet with a dude.”

Since Dean had been arguing the same point for twenty minutes, Castiel continued eating his breakfast while Sam fought with his brother. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Becky enter the room, timidly tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“You’re the one who _married a man_ , Dean! The audience is expecting you and Castiel to walk the red carpet. Abaddon is _expecting_ to see a happy couple that the press will fawn over. You two have been married for almost five months, and I know you’ve consummated the damn relationship—now isn’t the time to pitch a fit and claim you’re straight!”

If it was anyone other than Dean whining, Castiel would probably have been offended.

In a burst of anger, Dean swept his arm out and swept his own plate and mug off the table. The only one in the room that flinched was Becky, who dropped the binder she was carrying.

Every time Castiel found himself in the near vicinity of Dean’s personal assistant, he felt parts of his brain rotting. Becky’s personality was unbearable for longer than five minutes and, frankly, Castiel didn’t see a reason to keep her around.

But then again, his experience with the music business was second-hand and had only even been a thing for five months. What did he know?

“Sam… we’ve got some press showing a real interest in interviewing both Dean and Castiel.” Becky picked up the binder clutched it against her. Like usual, her words were jittery and laced with nerves. “And the suits have arrived from the designers.”

“Thank you, Becky.” Sam waited until the woman had stepped back out of the room before directing his attention at Dean once more. “You’re going, Castiel is going, and that’s final. You will put on a show, make the world and the press believe that you’re happily married, and when the evening ends you can get drunk off your ass and fuck whoever you want.”

Dean wore a pout that made it hard to believe he was a grown man and not a two-year-old, but he didn’t argue further. He simply stood up and went into the main bedroom of the suite that he had claimed earlier. 

Collapsing into the vacated chair, Sam let out a huff of air and stared over to Castiel. “He’s going to be a little bitch about this, so be prepared. But I’ve got you scheduled with the fashion gurus in about two hours.”

_Fun_ , Castiel thought. The women and men that were in charge of making him look suitable for the public hardly ever believed him when he argued that he could dress himself.

\---

He had never seen so many flashbulbs going off at once. Castiel posed, an arm tucked behind Dean’s back as they stood in their matching suits and smiled for the cameras. As far as anyone there knew they were the complete embodiment of a happy, loving couple.

But the hand that laid against Dean’s back could feel the tension in his muscles. It was enough to tell Castiel that his husband was just as uncomfortable as he was. 

When they finally made it to the end of the red carpet a group of reporters were set up with microphones and cameras, all waiting for their shot to ask questions. While they pleaded for Dean’s attention, Castiel took a step back. He found where Sam stood, off to the side and out of the limelight, and moved in that direction. 

“Do people ever get used to this shit?” he asked, tugging at his tie and watching the media circus in front of them.

Sam gave him an understanding smile. “Fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Thankfully we only have to do this bit like five times a year. Rarely, we’ve been asked to make appearances at movie premieres, which is also a big deal, but like I said… rare.”

“I—” Castiel stopped, his words cut off by one of the ceremony staff ushering them inside the large banquet hall. He wound up back at Dean’s side, but this time his husband left space between them and didn’t dare touch Castiel. _Guess the show’s over for now._

It didn’t take long for Castiel to realize that sitting at a live awards ceremony was a lot duller than watching it on television. He watched intently as the Winchester Bros. played their set, and then sat through the nuisance that was producing a live TV show. When Dean finally sat down, Castiel found himself in the middle of the Winchester brothers, and his thoughts took on a life of their own. Probably out of sheer boredom. 

With Sam so close, though, he couldn’t help wondering if the younger of the two was better in bed.

It was a thought that kept him well and truly occupied for the first hour and a half of the show. When an award category finally came up that the band was nominated for, Castiel was brought out of his reverie by an eruption of cheers around him. Everyone was standing and clapping, so he followed suit, realizing belatedly that Winchester Bros. had won. 

Dean hurried to the stage, followed by the rest of the band members, and accepted the award with a large smile on his face. 

Castiel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his husband so happy before.

Dean hefted the metal award in one hand as he sidled up to the microphone stand. The young starlet who had presented him the award stood off to one side, bearing a smile that echoed the ones plastered on each band member’s face.

“Wow, I can’t—I can’t believe this. First and foremost I’d like to thank my band.” He gestured to the group behind him. “I can guarantee y’all wouldn’t pay nearly as much to see just my sorry behind on stage.” The audience responded with polite laughter. “And I can’t thank anyone without thanking my family. I’d like to thank my mom, and my sister. And my brother, Sam, who’s also my manager and finds a sick pleasure in making me get out of my bed everyday. And of course, how could I forget Cas?” Dean winked as he said his husband’s name, his smile all charm.

Dean paused, and Castiel waited. He couldn’t decide if he was happy about being mentioned or not.

The singer continued, his tone less conversational than before. “But this is really for my father, who passed away recently.” The audience quieted, and the sympathy in the concert hall was palpable. “I was fortunate enough to be by his side when he died—”

At first Castiel wasn’t sure that he’d heard correctly. But he had. _I was fortunate enough to be by his side._ Castiel didn’t hear the rest of the speech clearly after that. Some utter bullshit about Dean’s father telling him to follow his dreams, or something. Castiel wondered if Dean had ever been around Bobby as an adult long enough to be told anything.

Castiel had figured out long ago that there was a significant difference between the image Dean presented to the press and the life he actually lived. He was used to the women. He could deal with the cold shoulders. It had made him sick to his stomach when Dean couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—make time to visit his dying father. But this? Exploiting his father’s death, his family’s pain, for what? To sell records?

There was a line, and it had been crossed. Castiel hadn’t signed up for this.

He was rising out of his seat before he realised he’d moved. He could feel Sam’s hand on his arm but he shook it off. Later someone might say he was lucky that his hasty exit coincided with, of all things, a standing ovation, hiding his retreat. But if Dean couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about his real life, Castiel sure as hell didn’t care about the image.


	11. Keep On

_I can tell you what I got here on my mind, but I think you already know. Yeah and now's the time for you to turn around if you want me to walk away. Or you can keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on lookin' at me that way._

\---

Outside of the large hall’s doors, Sam caught Castiel’s arm and began steering him to the left. He was so angry at Dean’s speech that Castiel hadn’t even registered Sam following him—let alone the myriads of photographers waiting just outside.

Sam had obviously kept a level head, though, because he maneuvered them around the press and up a rear stairwell that was probably meant for staff. When they were on the second floor, Sam shoved Castiel up against the wall and finally caught his gaze. “I wish I could have let the press see you. I can only imagine how funny the headlines would have been.”

Shoving back, Castiel tried to understand why Sam wasn’t equally as pissed off. “He sold out his whole family and you’re making jokes! Ellen and Jo were probably watching that bullshit—”

“No doubt they were.”

“And?” The younger man’s response was a slight shrug of his shoulders. It only stood to make Castiel angrier. “Why does everyone put up with his bullshit? You included, Sam! I know you’re still hurting after losing your dad, and you just brush off Dean using that for publicity?”

Sam took a deep, shaky breath, and brushed his fingers through his hair. When he looked back at Castiel, the humor had left his eyes. “My brother is a bastard. I’ve had my whole life to get used to that fact. Knowing i, doesn’t change anything. I can yell at him for hours about this, but he won’t understand what the big deal is, so what’s the point?”

“The point is: he just hurt a lot of people for his own gain.” Castiel realized why it hurt him so much. Family was everything to him. From his siblings to his nieces and nephews—he would lay down his life for any of them. Hell, even Meg… well, when they’d still been married. 

Dean showed none of that respect and love towards his family. Despite the fact that the damn band was named ‘Winchester Bros.’ Dean seemed to believe that the world revolved solely around him. 

The fact that Castiel had been able to put up with such a self-centered ego for five months was downright amazing. But it left him wondering how he could possibly survive the next seven months and fulfill his contract. He looked up at Sam, feeling utterly lost.

Sam seemed to sense his emotions changing. He stepped forward until suddenly he had Castiel pinned against the wall. “Cas,” he breathed, before leaning down to capture Castiel’s lips in a kiss. 

Like weeks before in that darkened hotel room, Castiel was overwhelmed by the feeling and emotion behind the kiss. Whatever was between them was obviously the cause for all of his thoughts being ‘Sam-centric’ lately. 

He shifted, reaching up to curl his fingers through shaggy dark brown hair. With a soft tug, he tilted Sam’s head just enough to allow his tongue better entrance into the other man’s mouth. The kiss was _good_. Too good, probably. And oh so forbidden. But without a cellphone to interrupt them, Castiel allowed himself to relish the feelings.

They were both breathless when Sam finally pulled away. “As much as I’d like to continue this right here, I think it might be a bit more comfortable upstairs in my room.”

Instead of answering right away, Castiel took a moment to think about his options. His eyes drifted to the staircase that lead back down to the banquet hall and it dawned on him that Dean would never miss him. In fact, Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if Dean already had a female companion lined up for the evening. And where would that leave him? On the sofa in their suite, listening to Dean fuck another random stranger.

Leaning forward, he let his lips latch onto the skin just below Sam’s ear. After a moment of gentle kisses and bites, he finally whispered his answer. “I’m game if you are.”

\---

Where Dean was fast paced and rough in the bedroom, Sam appeared to be the exact opposite. He took his time peeling off every piece of Castiel’s suit, and seemed to enjoy every slow second.

Castiel, for his part, was going insane. His cock was straining against his briefs, and Sam seemed to be touching him everywhere _but_ there. It was truly maddening. 

So if he grabbed Sam’s tie and used it to direct the younger man’s attention south, was it really his fault? Sam smirked at the force behind the movement, and knelt down in front of Castiel. Their eyes met as large fingers brushed over the front of Castiel’s underwear. 

“This where you want me?”

Sam’s voice made his legs quiver, and Castiel could only manage to nod and whimper, “Please.”

With a nod, Sam pulled the waistband of the briefs down and let them fall to Castiel’s ankles. His cock was hard, waiting for some kind of attention that wasn’t bargained or forced. With slow and deliberate touches, Sam brushed his hands up Castiel’s thighs before letting one wrap around the base of his cock. 

After two slow strokes, Sam leaned forward and licked a bead of precome from the tip of Castiel’s cock. How something so minute could be so hot Castiel had no idea. But Sam Winchester was definitely driving him insane.

Sam pulled back and looked up at him. “I know you must be feeling pretty wild, but I don’t want to rush this. In fact…” He stopped speaking and looked away, almost… shy? 

Castiel frowned. “Yes, Sam?”

“I’d really like you to fuck me, tonight.”

The words sent a shiver rolling down his spine. Gripping Sam’s tie once more, he pulled the younger man up and kissed him hard, as he worked on taking Sam’s clothes off. His movements were far more sporadic and didn’t hold one ounce of the finesse Sam had shown, but Castiel couldn’t be bothered to care.

He stripped Sam of every article of clothing except one… the burgundy colored tie that was around his neck. As they stood at the foot of the bed, Castiel kissed Sam’s neck just above the silk tie and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“Supplies?” 

Sam motioned over his shoulder to the chair where his suitcase sat open. “In the side pocket.”

“Good.” Castiel smirked, holding onto the tie and walking around Sam. There was just enough slack in the knot to allow the silk to shift with him. When he was behind Sam, he let the tie fall onto his back and moved over to track down lube and a condom.

When he had the supplies in hand, he walked back to where Sam still stood obediently. Castiel placed a smattering of kisses on one tanned shoulder and smiled when he realized that Sam was touching himself. Beneath an air of obedience was a naughty boy.

“On the bed,” Castiel commanded. “Hands and knees.” 

Sam moved without hesitation, and Castiel admired the shift of strong muscles as he did. He remembered seeing Sam running around the empty lots of stadiums on a few occasions, and happily admired the results of such a diligent workout. 

Since Sam’s body rested along the edge of the bed, his feet dangling off, Castiel was able to remain standing as he leaned forward to kiss the dimples at the base of Sam’s spine. He popped the top of the bottle of lubricant and slicked his fingers. 

As he began gently stretching Sam open, he mapped his back with a trail of kisses and bites. By the time that his third finger eased inside of Sam’s entrance, the man was a moaning mess. 

“Please, Cas,” he groaned. His knuckles were white from clenching the bed spread beneath him. 

Castiel slowly withdrew his fingers, making sure to brush _just slightly_ over Sam’s prostate. As Sam quivered from the feeling, Castiel unwrapped the condom he had found earlier and unrolled it over his cock. After coating his cock in a layer of lube, he grabbed Sam’s hips and held him still as he slowly pushed inside the tight warmth of his ass.

It felt absolutely amazing, and Castiel was suddenly reminded of why bottoming always left him feeling a bit unfulfilled. He loved to top.

He rolled his hips, keeping his movements slow and shallow to draw out the inevitable. Reaching out, he wrapped his left hand around burgundy silk and tugged slightly with each thrust. The added element of the tie was obviously turning Sam on as much as it was Castiel, because he let out a strangled moan with every pull. 

“Cas! Oh fuck, Cas.” Sam’s voice cracked and his body quaked as he cried out. 

His ass clamped tighter around Castiel’s cock and it dawned on him that Sam was coming without being touched at all. _Holy fuck!_ He slammed forward three more times, tugged on the tie just a little too hard, and came with a shout. It was too much. Just too fucking much.

It took a couple of minutes for his brain to function again. When it did, Castiel pulled away from Sam’s body, discarded the condom, and brought a wet hotel towel for Sam to use to clean himself up.

Instead of assuming that he should leave post-sex, Castiel climbed on the bed and waited for Sam to finish and move up closer. When the younger man was resting against Castiel’s side, he couldn’t help but laugh as he noticed the silk tie still in place.

Castiel reached out and slowly pulled the knot undone. “This thing is hot. I think it might be my favorite thing ever.”

With a chuckle, Sam grabbed the tie and tossed it across the room. He found Castiel’s lips and kissed him softly before whispering, “You’re my favorite thing ever.”


	12. Broke Record

_Your lips, your hips, when you touch ‘em to mine, each and every time, I’m hypnotized I’ll admit it. Your moves, your grooves… It’s some deadly stuff, I can’t get enough. Girl your love’s a drug, I can’t quit it._

\---

**  
LIFE ON THE ROAD: A Look Behind The Scenes Of The Winchester Bros. Tour   
** (SAN FRANCISCO, CA.) - Their critically acclaimed _‘Escape From Hell’_ tour is drawing to a close, but the energy level is still running high for the band Winchester Bros. In a year that has seen the lead singer, Dean Winchester, go from DUI arrest to sudden marriage, it’s hard to believe the band can focus. But personal matters haven’t slowed them down and certainly didn’t stop them from earning five ACM awards last month.

So what’s the secret to their success? According to band manager, Sam Winchester, the answer is simple. “Family. Winchester Bros. starts and ends with family.”

One look behind the scenes quickly proves that point. Dean and his younger brother Sam have adopted bandmates Charlie Bradbury, Adam Milligan, and Kevin Tran into their ‘family’ and have made magic. Each year brings in new fans, more awards, and better music. 

Which means, of course, that when Dean married Castiel Novak back in August, it was only fitting that Castiel join the Winchester family on the road. The former mechanic from the outskirts of Nashville says that the past few months have definitely been an experience.

“At first I could walk around the crowds without being noticed. It was nice - a free show every week!” Novak explains. “But now I’ve got my own bodyguard and as soon as I step off the bus people are yelling and asking for autographs. It’s definitely overwhelming.”

Most newlyweds would attest to the fact that the first year of marriage is a learning experience. For Winchester and Novak, that year has been spent on a tour bus roughly the size of a studio apartment. “You don’t have much space for arguments,” Winchester laments. “There’s a bedroom, yes, but generally Sam sleeps out on the couch in the front of the bus - so if one of us is upset and claims the bedroom to calm down, the other has to put up with the Moose.”

Thankfully the two claim that arguments are few and far between. They’ve settled into a routine together and, if anything, Dean says, “We argue about who succeeded last in the ongoing prank war.”

For Thursday night’s show in Oakland, there were no pranks to be had. Just a sold out crowd singing along with every word. Backstage, Novak watched his husband with admiration in his eyes and a sway in his hips. 

“I just love this,” he said, motioning to where Dean stood rocking the crowd. “I love watching him in his element. The passion he puts into everything - that’s why I fell in love with Dean Winchester.”

\---

Considering the fact that they lived on a tour bus with Dean, it was surprisingly easy for Sam and Castiel to spend time together. Sound checks equaled makeout sessions and encores meant quick handjobs in a dark hallway. It was wrong on a million different levels, Castiel knew, but that never stopped him.

They were on the road for three more weeks, then suddenly they were back home in Tennessee and life came to a screeching halt. When the bus was unpacked and they got settled back into the house, Dean lasted all of three hours before he went stir crazy and asked Benny to take him out. 

Castiel watched them leave, before stepping to the base of the stairs and calling out, “Sammy!” He had no idea where the other man was, but the surefire way to get a response was to call out with the nickname he hated. When he didn’t hear footsteps right away, he frowned and moved towards the kitchen. He made it halfway down the hall before strong arms wrapped around his middle from behind. 

“Hey,” Sam’s deep voice sounded right against his ear and Castiel felt a tingle run down his spine. “You looking for me, hot stuff?”

“We have the house to ourselves. Dean just went out and told Benny he needed an escape. Want to have some fun?”

Sam started pulling at Castiel’s shirt, obviously on board with the notion. “I do. How about skinny dipping in the pool?”

\---

After sex in the pool—and making out in the shower afterwards—they finally got dressed and decided to check out the carnival in town that night. Castiel was more than a little excited about the prospect of funnel cake and BBQ.

They bought their admission tickets, and then spent what Castiel felt was a small fortune on a wheel of ride and game tickets. Cas’ stomach wasn’t quite growling yet, so he could forgive Sam for dragging him past the row of delicious-smelling food vendors, straight to the Ferris wheel. Sam gave enough tickets for passage for two to the bored-looking teenage girl working the line. 

 

Castiel glanced up at Sam while they waited in line, a teasing look in his eyes. “The Ferris wheel? Seriously?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Sam said as they shuffled another few feet forward. “Our mom and dad used to bring us and Jo to the carnival whenever it came into town. Only, we could never really afford as many tickets as this.” He hefted the round of tickets that they hadn’t even made a dent in. “Dean had the great idea to park ourselves on the Ferris wheel, thinking if we never got off by ourselves, we could just ride it forever.”

“And? Could you?”

Sam chuckled at the memory. “No, not even once. First time Dean tried it, he told the guy we’d just gotten on. Dean was such a dick about it we just about got thrown out of the whole carnival.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that, but it was their turn to climb onto one of the rocking metal cars. The view was impressive, to say the least. Sam squeezed Cas’ hand when they stopped at the top. The ride seemed to be over before it began, and then Sam was dragging Cas off to yet another ride.

Finally Castiel reached the point that he put a stop to the dizzying rides, telling Sam that if they didn’t stop while they were ahead, they would end up too sick to eat. And there was no way Castiel was passing up a BBQ sandwich and an ice cold beer. Sam pouted like a child until he had his own food and beer and they were sitting down to eat. 

In between bites they talked about how nice it was to be out and about without people recognizing them. Castiel hadn’t realized how much he missed it until the tour was over and life was settled once more. 

“I was talking to Jody the other day,” Castiel said, sipping his beer. “She said the end of the year schedule will be fairly slow. I’m thinking about trying to find a garage that’s for sale in the area. Start some kind of plan for once the year is up.”

He watched as a slow change in emotions crossed over Sam’s face. The ‘end’ of Dean and Castiel’s marriage wasn’t a topic they usually approached. He guessed it was because a decision would have to be made—whether or not his relationship with Sam would continue on after that point.

The truth was, Castiel wanted things to stay the same after Dean was out of the picture. He enjoyed Sam’s company and, frankly, the sex was _amazing._ So why end it?

Sam balled up the wrapper from his sandwich and finished his drink, before smiling and brushing off the topic. “Did I ever tell you I’m a master at the ring toss game? I bet I could win you the biggest stuffed animal they have!”

Letting the topic change happen, Castiel finished his beer and stood to take his garbage to the nearest trashcan. “Prove it. I must warn you, though, with words like that I’m thinking you won’t get laid tonight if you _don’t_ win.”

\---

The next time they moved through the line of the Ferris wheel, Sam was proudly carrying the largest purple monkey that Castiel had ever seen. When Sam had finally won the thing Castiel had burst out laughing and cheered from the sidelines. The look of triumph had been seriously hot.

Castiel watched Sam settling the monkey onto the seat of the Ferris wheel, before climbing on beside it. Before Castiel followed, he handed the guy now taking the tickets everything that they had left. “That should get us approximately five circuits. Give the extra to whoever is next in line.”

He smiled at the kid and happily smooshed onto the small seat next to Sam and the monkey. With the stuffed animal taking up all of the extra space, their bodies were practically glued together. Sam stretched his arms out, laying one on Castiel’s shoulders and the other on the rail behind the monkey. 

“This has been fun,” Sam mused. “I wish I got to get out and do normal stuff like this more often.”

As the wheel started to spin, Castiel rested his head on Sam’s shoulder. “You know, you could always stop following your brother around and settle into a normal life.”

He could feel the soft sigh leaving Sam’s body before he spoke. “Sometimes I wish I could, but then I remember all of the dumb shit that my brother does and gets into when I’m not around. Hell, even when I _am_ around. He would probably kill himself on a bender one day if I wasn’t there to keep him on track. I just… he’s the most important person in my life. I have to make sure he wakes up every morning and remembers he’s living the dream.”

Castiel gave a soft ‘mmm’ as reply, but his thoughts began to drift. It wasn’t surprising that Sam considered Dean to be the most important person in his life—they were obsessively codependent—but it didn’t bode well for Sam figuring out the logistics of a good relationship. The smart thing to do, for Castiel’s sanity and his heart, would be to step away sooner rather than later. But he was having fun, and as the Ferris wheel began its second trip around, he realized just how twisted his life had become.


	13. Jack Daniels

_Guess every Superman has got his kryptonite. Yeah, Jack Daniels kicked my ass again last night._

\---

Considering how nice the night before was, it shouldn’t have been such a shock when Sam and Castiel woke up to bad news. In his need to ‘relax’ after the tour, Dean had successfully gotten into a bar fight over the girl he was trying to hook up with. Castiel watched from the dining room table as Sam moved around the room yelling at people on his phone and waving his arms in the air to emphasize each point he made.

From the side of the story that Castiel was able to overhear, he had learned that his husband had been arrested not only for a minor assault charge, but also for possession of narcotics. That part stunned Castiel the most—he knew Dean was a heavy drinker, but had never seen him use drugs or noticed that he was on them. 

He remembered the night before, talking to Sam on the Ferris wheel and learning things about their real father that gave light to Dean’s personality. The broken tone that Sam had used when he admitted that John Winchester’s drinking was the cause of his and their mother Mary’s deaths had been painful to hear. For Sam to sit back and watch his brother continue on a downward spiral without stepping in, was equally as painful.

Finally, Sam ended his call and looked like he was prepared to slam the entire phone into the nearest wall. Castiel kept his mouth shut, not wanting to provoke even more anger, but he also wanted to see what would happen next. 

“I just can’t believe he continues to fucking do this. After everything the band has gone through—Dean still can’t get it through his thick skull that we only sell records if he doesn’t continually fuck up!”

Castiel sighed, taking a long sip from his coffee. Once he had placed the cup back on the table, he finally looked up at Sam pacing the floor. “I think you should consider sending Dean to rehab. I mean, if he’s doing pills, on top of drinking, then he obviously needs some serious help getting clean.”

“Rehab?” Sam’s tone was nothing short of incredulous. He stopped pacing momentarily to stare at Castiel like he was insane.

“You think I’m joking.” 

Sam shook his head, “it’s—it’s not that bad, Cas.”

“Not _that_ bad?” Now it was Castiel’s turn for incredulity. “Sam, he’s doing drugs!”

Sam looked uncomfortable. “Look, there’s enough on the line now, that Dean’s gonna realize he’s gotta get his shit together. That this has to be the last time.”

“That’s not how addiction works, Sam, and you of all people should know that!” Castiel couldn’t control his voice rising.

“You don’t know—”

“Don’t know _what_ , Sam?” He was practically shouting. “Don’t know how Dean’s been dragging everyone he claims to care about through his shit with him? How the same damn thing tore your family apart?”

“He’s not your family, Cas! It’s not your problem.”

“It shouldn’t be yours either, Sam, but you’re the only one he might listen to. Heaven knows he won’t listen to me! I don’t know why, but despite all of this bullshit, I still care about Dean. How can you love your brother and watch him self-destruct?”

“ _Love my brother?_ You’re one to talk Castiel, you’re the one cheating on him.”

_That_ hurt, but Castiel brushed it off without hesitation. He didn’t have time to contemplate his own issues, and he refused to feel guilty when he had spent seven fucking months watching Dean parade women in and out of their lives. “That’s a fucking double standard and you know it.”

Before Sam could reply, they were both rendered speechless by the sound of the garage door opening. _Dean was home._ Castiel knew at that point, as he watched Sam’s face, that the issue was not going to be resolved. Sam would continue to enable Dean’s drug and alcohol abuse. 

Dean went straight for the stairs after he walked through the front door, because he didn’t enter the dining room where they still stood. Instead, Benny walked in a moment later and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I paid the bail, got everything settled. He’s going to have another court date, but it hasn’t been scheduled yet. And from what I could tell, there weren’t any paps snooping around for info while we were there,” Benny explained, his eyes trained on Sam.

Sam nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Thanks, Benny.”

Since Sam was too focused on his thoughts to notice, Castiel decided to mention the fact that Benny looked a little more stressed out than normal. The bodyguard shifted on his feet, not looking at either of the other men in the eyes. “What is it?” Castiel persisted, “Is Dean okay?”

“No.” Benny looked his way and sighed. “I think he’s in a spiral, and I don’t know how to help. If it weren’t for his lousy right hook when he’s drunk, I’d have a black eye right now. I didn’t know he had the drugs on him, but I knew he was hanging out with a shady group. I just—”

Benny’s words cut off and Castiel shook his head. “This isn’t your fault, Benny. It’s Dean’s.”

Apparently tired of the conversation, Sam let out an exasperated huff and stormed off towards the stairs. 

Castiel was beginning to think that avoiding the inevitable was a Winchester trait.

\---

He didn’t see either brother until later that evening when he came in from swimming to find dinner laid out on the kitchen counter and Dean sitting at the nearby table eating.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked, walking to get himself a plate of food.

Dean didn’t look up from his plate as he answered, “Meeting with Jody in the office. Probably be a couple hours before he’s available for you to fuck.”

The words made him freeze, spatula held midair. “Excuse me?”

“If you expected to hide an affair from the guy that invented the term, you were wrong.”

_Fuck._ Castiel didn’t know which part was more worrisome: the fact that Dean knew about whatever was going on between himself and Sam, or that Dean seemed completely unaffected by it. Deciding to shelve the conversation for later— _way later_ —he carried his plate of food to the table and sat down across from his husband.

“Then while Sam is busy, I think we need to talk.”

Dean shook his head, taking a long swig from a bottle of water. At least it wasn’t beer. “I don’t need to hear your opinion on my problems, Cas. You barely even fucking know me.”

“I know enough after standing in your shadow for six months.” Castiel was undeterred by Dean’s attitude. It was something he had been dealing with over and over, and by that point he was used to it. “I think you should check into a rehab facility for a few weeks.”

“Like I said,” Dean growled, “I don’t need your fucking opinion.”

“The fact that everyone else treats you like a spoiled child is the reason why you’re going to end up ruining a lot of lives very soon. Think of all the people that will be out of work because the lead singer of Winchester Bros. od’d and ended up dead in his own sick.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went back to eating. “A few packets of ecstasy are not going to equal my death.”

“Leaving out the fact that your entire family would be heartbroken, and Sam would walk around lost because he didn’t have you to spend all of his time worrying about—I think Charlie will miss you the most. The last week of the tour, I had a conversation with her about how she idolizes you. The big brother she never had, the only family she has in this world. She told me she worries about the monsters you face down each day. Mentioned the fact that you were by her side every second when her mom died.”

Dean didn’t outwardly acknowledge any of Castiel’s words, but he could tell by his husband’s stiff body language that he was indeed listening.

So Castiel continued. “I have you figured out, Dean. You love too much. When it comes to helping someone else through a tragedy, you’re right there. But facing your own problems, or your own father’s death? You run and hide. Because beneath that rough and tough rockstar persona is the heart of a little boy who watched his parents die and then spent the rest of his life covering up his feelings so that no one could see he was hurting.”

Dean swept his arm out in an act of silent rage and stood in a rush. Before Castiel could blink, Dean was there—ripping him from his chair and slamming him hard against the wall behind him. “Listen to me, you know-it-all prick, you’re nothing more than a paid piece of ass. You don’t get to have a fucking opinion, because every aspect of you being here is _a lie._ Even whatever bullshit you have going on with Sam. You think he’ll keep you around after the marriage contract is over? Deal with the backlash of dating his brother’s ex-husband? I think not. So yeah, I might have some shit to work out in my life, but at least I don’t have to sell my body for a paycheck.”

Castiel quickly shoved his husband away, not willing to show how deep the words had cut. “I’m just glad all of this bullshit is almost over. Then at least I won’t have to continue sitting back and watching you self destruct.”

“Just be fucking grateful there’s a signed document keeping me from kicking your ass to the curb,” Dean threw over his shoulder as he turned to go back upstairs.


	14. Over When It's Over

_It’s a one way, with nowhere to turn—it’s no brakes, baby, crash and burn. Ain’t no map ever going to bring us back from where we are… It’s just over when it’s over._

\---

Since so much bullshit was happening in and around the Winchester home, Castiel decided that it was long past time for him to take a drive out to Smyrna and spend a few days with his brother’s family. It didn’t make the problems back in Nashville disappear, but it helped him ignore them for a week.

It also helped him scope out a few locations for a new garage—and hit the jackpot when he stopped to talk to an old friend and found out that a place nearby was looking to sell. If he could paste his name onto a shop that was already off the ground and rolling, he would save at least five steps in the process of establishing a new business. He spent the last two days of his pseudo-vacation talking to the shop’s owner and the bank. By the time he made the drive back to Nashville, he had signed an offer to buy the place with the money he’d been saving while married to Dean.

It was probably a rash decision, but Castiel was a firm believer in striking when the iron was hot. 

His good mood lasted all the way up until the moment he parked the Impala in the garage. As he climbed out of the car, he could already hear the yelling from inside the house. “Great,” he mumbled.

Castiel carried his duffel bag inside and beelined for the stairs, only to be caught midway by Dean grasping his shirt and throwing him against the wall… yet again. _This is getting to be a habit,_ he thought to himself.

“This is your fault! Did you call her? Are you the one that put this fucking idea in her head?” Dean screamed, keeping Castiel pinned in place.

Odds were, Dean hadn’t even noticed that Castiel had been gone. “I might be a day late and a dollar short here but… _what_?”

“Abaddon! Wicked bitch of the west. She wants me to go to fucking rehab. This is your fault! Can’t keep your fucking nose out of my business. Why the fuck did I ever marry you?” Dean shoved hard, propelling Castiel’s head back against the wall hard enough that he was going to have a serious headache in a couple hours. 

Once he had let go and stormed up the stairs, Castiel turned to find Sam standing at the edge of the foyer watching. He had a glare on his face, and it was obvious that Sam believed everything Dean did. “If you honestly think that I would get into contact with Abaddon—”

He had heard complaints about the woman during the tour, and he knew exactly who she was and that she held enough power and command to demand things like Dean’s marriage. But that didn’t mean he knew how to contact her, or that he would ever stoop to doing something like that behind Sam’s back just to prove a point.

Sam didn’t seem inclined to believe him, though. “You were fairly adamant about making your pitch. Dean said you even went to him with this bullshit concept—after I expressly told you that it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Well he is my husband. I have the right to speak to him without your permission.”

Sam shook his head, anger boiling to the surface. “Not anymore. You’ve put the whole band at risk. You need to move back into the role of public spouse and keep your nose out of band matters from now on. If you can’t handle that for the next few months, we’ll contact a lawyer and reevaluate this entire deal.”

Beneath every word that Sam spoke, Castiel heard the subtext loud and clear. _’You and I are officially over.’_

As Sam turned to walk away, Castiel let out a humorless laugh. “You know, Sam. I thought you were better than all of this. The way you talk when he’s not around—the dreams that shine in your eyes—you ignore all of that, and for what? For Dean? He isn’t worth you losing your whole reputation over. Is this really what you want to be known for? Sam Winchester, the band manager that sank with the ship?”

“At least I have a sense of integrity, Cas. I stand behind the people I love and support them through their mistakes. Do you? I read the story about your wife. Couldn’t stay with her and make it work, just because she couldn’t have children? What kind of man are you really, Cas? A nobody, holding onto everyone else’s coattails.”

The words stung, a strike straight through Castiel’s heart. He had read the very same article that Meg had published. The slander she had put his name through, the lies that she had twisted to fit her own benefit.

It wasn’t Meg that couldn’t have children, it was Castiel. And she hated him for it the moment the doctor read off the diagnosis. 

Castiel shoved past Sam and up the stairs. He was halfway up the staircase when he stopped and looked back down. “You’ve obviously made your choice, Sam. I just hate the person I’ve watched you become while making it. So I’m going to pack up my shit, and you can tell your fucking lawyers to send the divorce papers to my brother’s place. Because Dean was right—I’ve been selling myself to the Winchester Bros., and right now, it’s time to take back control.”


	15. Springsteen

_If I bumped into you by happenstance, you probably wouldn’t even know who I am. But if I whispered your name, I bet there’d still be a spark._

\---

The garage that he owned prior to his divorce from Meg, the one she so happily claimed in the divorce and promptly sold, had pushed away his regular customers and struggled immediately. So when word got around town that Castiel Novak, everyone’s favorite mechanic, was taking over another shop, people were ecstatic. Within the first month he had more customers than his first year at the last place. Things were amazing and the icing on the cake was that the whole place was _his_.

Of course, being the owner meant more paperwork than actual time spent beneath a car, but he had good employees that he trusted with the day to day activities. 

“Hey, boss?”

Castiel looked up and smiled at the young engineering graduate, Alfie, who stood patiently in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Rufus needs you to check on the calibrations he’s finishing up.” The kid was smart, but always nervous. He reminded Castiel of Becky in more than a few ways.

“Thanks Alfie.” He waited another moment before setting aside the paychecks he’d been filling out and standing to find Rufus in the garage. The older man was tucked beneath the hood of a newer model Chevy and cursing up a storm. Castiel laughed, stepping up to see what had Rufus so pissed off. “Issues?”

Rufus pulled back and glared at him. “You boys know I hate these damn electronic systems. Why do you have me working on this?”

He did know exactly what Rufus was talking about—he always tried to keep the old mechanic happy and working on late model cars. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had many older cars in that week and they were shorthanded. “I’m sorry, Rufus, you know I wouldn’t normally put you on one of these jobs.” 

Castiel spent fifteen minutes helping sort everything out with Rufus and was almost done when he heard his name being called from the direction of the office. He looked up in time to catch the receptionist waving at him. “Gotta run, Rufus, but it looks like you have everything back under control.”

Grumpy hands waved him off and he let out a laugh as he grabbed a rag and moved towards the office. The receptionist was still waiting patiently for him, looking as nervous as Alfie did earlier. 

“Mr. Novak, there’s someone here to see you. He said you would know him and demanded I show him to your office.” 

His good mood tapered away as a bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. If it was Crowley, coming to make bogus demands again, then he was going to have a problem. “Did he give you a name?”

“Yes um… Winchester? I think?”

The name sent a shiver down his spine, bringing with it painful memories of the life he had walked away from. He had never regretted taking that step and leaving behind the fame and fortune. He didn’t miss the drama or the constant traveling. 

In fact, there was only one part that he would admit to missing. But he ignored that thought, brushing it aside like always. Choices had been made, separate paths had been taken.

None of that, of course, explained why a Winchester would be visiting his shop. He stared at the solid door that closed off his office and wondered which brother sat on the other side. “Did you get a first name?”

The receptionist fumbled over the question. She was new and it was her first job in the industry—he had watched her stumble more than a few times over which tasks were her responsibility and which ones weren’t. Before she could apologize about forgetting to ask for pertinent information, he held up his hand to cut her off.

“It’s fine. Can you make sure I’m not disturbed for the next half hour? I’m guessing this meeting will be important.” 

That was something she seemed capable of handling, and the girl nodded quickly and scurried away. 

Castiel took a deep breath, before walking up to his office door and pushing it open. His large executive chair was facing away from him, and judging by the vacancy of the rest of the space, his guest was sitting in it. He shut the door behind him and let the lock click into place. 

“Listen, Dean,” he started. Considering their divorce hadn’t been finalized yet and Sam had very clearly made his choice, it was the only logical explanation. “I signed your damn papers and sent them off just like the lawyer said. If you came down here to yell at me about the whole mess, then you wasted a tank of gas.”

“Cas,” a voice whispered. 

A jolt ran through and he knew before the chair even moved that it wasn’t Dean occupying the faded leather. 

“Sam.” The pain that he felt was intense and sudden. Sam didn’t have a right to be there. He had made his fucking mind up and… “Why are you here?”

He rose out of the chair and, if hearing Sam’s voice had been hard, seeing him in the flesh was even harder. Castiel bit back his emotions, but knew they had to be written all over his face. Sam wasn’t like his brother, he would pick up easily on what Castiel was feeling.

“I came to talk,” Sam said, “about the mistakes I’ve made.” 

He was so calm. How was he _so calm_? “You and I, then?” Castiel shook his head and tried not to get angry. Sam had shown up there on a whim just to bitch about how wrong their affair had been? “I didn’t think it was a mistake, but yeah, okay, good to know. You can go now—” He made a move to unlock the door.

The room was silent for a moment before Sam walked to where Castiel had his hand on the doorknob. He got close, but not close enough to be touching. His head dipped slightly and he smiled. “You were always so level headed—I guess I should feel good about you reacting like this when it comes to us.”

“I’m so glad that my broken heart can provide you with an ego boost. That’s fantastic.”

Sam chuckled, reaching to cup Castiel’s chin and force their gazes to meet. “The only mistake I made, Castiel, was letting you walk away. Choosing my brother and the world of luxury over you and the life you offered me. I was stupid and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

Castiel was at a loss for words. He stood there, mouth gaping for a few moments before he realized his silence might be taken for rejection. “Sam…”

Apparently Sam could still read him well, because he didn’t seem at all worried about the silence. Sam surged forward and suddenly Castiel was overwhelmed by kissing and touching and _Sam_. Despite the hurtful things Sam had said, Castiel needed to believe he hadn’t meant it. Having Sam there right in front of him felt _right_ and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he had missed all of it.

When they finally broke apart, lips swollen from the kiss, Castiel took a deep breath and tried to hold back his emotions for the moment. “This doesn’t automatically make everything better, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not what I want, Cas. All I’m asking for is a second chance. Just one opportunity to give this thing between us a real shot.”


	16. These Boots

_Now these boots are one step from the door_  
They walked out of years before  
I can almost see her now  
These boots ought to kick that door aside  
Stomp out my foolish pride  


\---

Sitting in the backseat of the black SUV, Dean stared out the tinted window and watched the shadows moving around inside the house. He wasn’t a fool—he knew damn well that the truck parked in the driveway was Sam’s.

He had waited too long, wasted too much time worrying about how Castiel would react if Dean showed up on his front porch.

Throwing the package of legal documents back onto the empty seat next to him, Dean motioned to Benny. “Take me home.”

It was too late to say _‘I’m sorry’_. Castiel had made his choice.

The only thing left to do was sign the damn divorce papers.

\---

_But they just turn around_  
Damn these boots  
Damn these boots  
These boots 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Note from the Author:
> 
> I am fully aware that the ending of this story is left open. I have thoughts of a sequel playing out in my mind - one that won't be constrained by deadlines.
> 
> Also, big thanks to my artist, beta, and all of you lovely readers. I hope you enjoyed!


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